Truth and Lies
by Silvers45
Summary: Harry Potter has never hated Dolores Jane Umbridge as much as he does in this moment. Honestly, reading his entire life out to Hogwarts? And the Minister, too? That's... that's just low. But he supposed he owed her, in the end. After all, if it helped defeat Voldemort, who's he to complain?
1. Alohomora: Open

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or plot._

* * *

**Truth and Lies**

_Al__ohomora__:_ _Open_

* * *

_In a certain room is a library. A set of books stand out. Engraved on them are two words: _Harry Potter. _The pages are filled, going back to the past and stretching on to the future. _

_But as they say, nothing is set in stone._

* * *

Dolores Jane Umbridge strode through the halls of Hogwarts, feeling quite delighted. The half-breed teacher of Care of Magical Creatures Rubeus Hagrid had made the mistake of teaching threstals—_threstals_, of all the risky things!—to the fifth years. Which had, quite clearly, been declared 'dangerous' by the Ministry.

_Such a mindless idiot_, she thought. She would have him out of Hogwarts in no time, (along, perhaps, with that fraud Trelawney) if this went on. They were making it far too easy. It was too bad Flitwick or McGonagall were being far too faultless for her to find any dirt on them—but nevermind, that didn't matter, not for very long, at least. Dumbledore, clearly, was losing his touch; his image was falling apart and he knew it, he would be gone very soon... and when that happened, _she_ would be there to take over.

She smiled, too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice the students shying away from her, some in disgust. She walked on, intending to head to her office—when she heard a sudden crunch, as though the walls had moved.

That, of course, could hardly be anything special in a place like Hogwarts, but Dolores loathed anything disorderly, and so she glanced behind her.

Between two portraits was a great bronze door. It looked striking yet simple, with a small, blue sapphire in the middle of the doorknob, and it was a fairly large door—nearly as huge as the Great Hall's double doors—and Dolores was absolutely sure she had not seen it before.

For a moment her eyes narrowed in suspicion and her mouth slipped into a frown, but then her face brightened. Perhaps this was where Potter held those illegal meetings? Or where those wretched Weasley twins planned their little tricks?

Pulling her wand out, she opened the door, and was pleased to see she had no need to unlock it; it swung open easily. But if she had expected something horrifying, something dreadful, she was severely disappointed.

It was a library.

It was, admittedly, a very huge library, and while it seemed ages old, there was something majestic about the place—it looked even bigger and older than the one Irma Pince supervised. Books lined the shelves, which reached the ceiling; there was a rusty ladder off to the side to reach those at the very top, and candles floated in the air just like in the Great Hall. When Dolores looked around, though, it seemed there was no librarian at all, and she realized she was possibly the first one to enter it. There were no desks—only the books.

_Was it a hidden _library_, then?_ she wondered. It certainly seemed like it.

She explored a little, and discovered that the farthest column of shelves was labelled _1991—1997._ Some of the books there were longer than others; some were series, bunched together in a sort of box. Overtaken by a curiosity she had not felt in a long time, she scanned the books' titles, but saw that instead of titles, there were only _names_ of students—some written boldly, some in very small handwriting. Dean Thomas. Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom. _And..._

Dolores shouldn't have been so shocked, but seeing Harry Potter's name on a set of books seemed odd. Had he written them? But she glanced at the other books and dismissed the idea almost immediately; she could hardly imagine students like Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle writing any sort of book.

She scowled. '_Harry Potter'_, it seemed, had one of the longer stories; there were seven of them, each one thicker than the last, and they were all stacked neatly next to each other in a package. She realized that these, perhaps, could be a great help in the discrimination of him, and hesitated for only a split-second before grabbing them off the shelves.

She stared hard at the books. But how would they help? They were, quite frankly, _books_. What information could they possibly contain that was not known already?

Then she saw a small note, on top of the package, which, in delicate, cursive script, read:

_These seven books,  
revealing only the truth,  
shall entail the past and future,  
for it regards seven years in the life  
of the brave Gryffindor, Harry James Potter,  
in his journey from youth to maturity, through friendship and animosity._

Dolores Jane Umbridge's face split in a wicked smile.

* * *

**AN:**_ Uh... okay. I have _no_ idea where this came from, but whatever. RTB stories have crossed my mind more than once, so I guess I just couldn't resist any more._

_So, to explain the otherwise totally deus-ex-machina library (still is, actually): I thought, "_hey, if Slytherin has a secret chamber, maybe the other founders have hidden rooms, too!" _and thus the library was born. I think Rowena would like something that would help her watch over the students—and in the form of_ knowledge!_ So, in my quirky little head, Salazar has a chamber, Rowena a library, and I like to think Helga invented the Room of Requirement. As for Godric... well, I dunno yet._

_Also, I won't be putting in _actual_ words from JKR's books, reactions only, 'cause _One_, I dunno whether _The Purge_ (at least, I _think_ that's what it's called) is over or not, _Two_, even if it is over, it's still against the rules and I'm a kind of Percy when it comes to rules, and _Three_, it'll take too much time. Hate to say it, but I'll probably end up discontinuing halfway._

_I know this kind of story is like an easy way out for Harry (_deus ex machina,_ what did I tell you!), and that's why I'll still try to make it as plot-ful as possible, promise! Gimme a chance (this is bordering on begging and makes me feel so frickin' ashamed of myself but I can't frickin' help it, 'kay)?_


	2. The First Book

**Disclaimer****: **_I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or plot._

* * *

**Truth and Lies**

_The First Book_

* * *

"_What_?"

The word burst from Harry's mouth before he could help himself. Beside him, Ron's mouth fell open and Hermione sent him a look, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. The stupid _toad_, who did she think she was? "That's—you can't possibly—"

"Oh, but I believe I can, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge in that sweet, sickening voice Harry so hated. "You see, it has been approved by the Ministry, and it is guaranteed truth. Madam Bones and Minister Fudge are both here to hear of it."

Harry's stomach dropped, and he clenched his fists to stop them shaking. Glaring at Umbridge, he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he heard McGonagall shout, "That is an incredible breach of Potter's privacy! You are not—"

"I believe we're quite in our rights to do it, Minerva," said Fudge, smiling as though he had won a tremendous victory. "It shall expose all of Potter's lies since 1991, and it's completely within the law."

McGonagall opened her mouth again, but Harry saw Dumbledore mutter something to her, and she snapped her mouth shut and sat back down, though there was an outraged expression on her face.

Amelia Bones was there too, Harry realized—though instead of mirroring the delighted faces of Fudge and Umbridge, she looked disapproving as well, muttering unintelligible things under her breath and shaking her head, and Harry took as much comfort as possible that she, at least, was against this.

As whispers rose from the room, someone shouted, "And what if we don't want to hear about the stupid thing?" Harry immediately identified the speaker as Zacharias Smith, and he gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to draw his wand and hex the idiot into next year. "What if I don't bloody care about Potter's life?"

"I'm afraid it's mandatory!" shrieked Umbridge, sending Smith a glare. "So! We will read the books—there will be no objections—"

But even more objections rose at that, in the form of murmurs and glares, though as Harry opened his mouth again he caught McGonagall staring harshly at him, and she shook her head and glared at him so fiercely her warning could not have been clearer, and he shut his mouth angrily. He sought out Dumbledore, but he, as had been quite the unreasonable routine this year, would not meet Harry's eyes.

Scowling, he turned to Ron and Hermione, who were both glaring at Umbridge with such intensity he was surprised she had not burst into flames yet.

"That horrid woman," Hermione hissed. "How can she just—just—"

"But—but maybe she's just making stuff worse for herself," said Ron with forced cheer. "I mean, you weren't telling lies, were you? So she'll just end up sounding like an idiot, plus this time everyone can't _not_ believe you."

"Yeah, well, this wasn't exactly how I wanted them to know," snapped Harry, unable to keep the anger from his voice. "This can't possibly be legal, can it?"

"No, but if Fudge is Minister..." Hermione trailed off, her face darkening. "How can we even be sure those _books"_—she said the word, usually filling her with enthusiasm, with such venom Harry would've laughed if not for the tenseness of the situation—"are telling the truth? They could be written by—by idiots like Skeeter or something!"

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, of course, soon learned that the books were rather truthful.

They honestly didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

* * *

For the first of what was to be many, many times, the Hall erupted into protests; even Minerva McGonagall could be heard hissing, "You said he would be safe, Albus! Safety and protection, not a poor upbringing!" but Severus Snape sat calmly in his chair. Shock and surprise were the first to flick over his face, and though he plastered on a sneer a moment later, he could not deny that it was rather astonishing.

_So Gryffindor's Golden Boy had spent ten years sleeping in a cupboard._

It was an odd piece of information, something Severus was not quite used to, and he didn't know _what_ to do with it. If he were completely honest with himself, he would say that he expected the boy to lead a completely pampered life.

The murmurs were dying down, the whispers silencing all over as Umbridge tried to keep the Hall under control. _As if_, Severus thought snidely. _As if that woman would ever be a worthy colleague._

Even as the Hall quieted, though, Severus' gaze found the boy. Potter's face was flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger or both Snape did not know, and Granger was whispering something to him, a worried look on her face, and Snape made out the words, _"...didn't you tell us? ...could've helped!_" to which Potter muttered something (presumably rude, judging from the look on his face, the insolent boy) back.

The reading had started to continue, though once in a while Severus saw Granger and Weasley saying something to Potter, and Potter snapping back at them. _Idiotic, inconsiderate boy_, he thought idly, but stopped immediately, thinking about the scarce moments when he would avoid speaking to Lily—and it was almost always because Lily kept asking him about his home life.

Albus, the infuriating man, kept looking at him every time he glanced at the boy, smiling, as though he knew something Severus didn't. He scowled again, refusing to think any longer about how Potter's home life mirrored his own—because it most certainly _did not_!

* * *

"Hagrid!" Pomona Sprout shouted—but the students were _laughing._ Hagrid looked sheepish.

"Inexcusable!" fumed Fudge, and Pomona immediately clamped her mouth shut, hating the man. "You are not allowed to use magic! You were expelled!"

"But of course," simpered Dolores Umbridge, who, if it was even possible, Pomona hated even more. "He pays no respect to that, Minister. He should be held trial—"

The laughter in the Hall died. Pomona choked on air. Beside her, Minerva stiffened. "No," her friend said loudly, and Pomona became sure of only one thing: they would not take Hagrid. She would not allow it.

"Indeed, Minerva?" said Dolores, and there was a near insane glint her eye. "He used magic—and on muggles! Not only did he break the Statute of Secrecy—"

"Those Dursleys already knew about magic!" said Pomona fiercely. "It was hardly a surprise!"

"Oh, but surely you don't agree with the spectacle?" said the Minister. "Giving an eleven-year-old muggle a pig's tail? It—it's intolerable! It can hardly go unnoticed—"

_Shut up, you idiot!_ Pomona thought. _Shut up, shut up, _shut up_! Everyone knows you're a prejudiced git, you hardly care whether any_ muggle's_ hurt or not!_

"Really, Cornelius," said Albus, ever-calm, but Pomona could see that he looked slightly wary. "It is only four chapters in. If we do this every few chapters, we will never get the job done."

"Dumbledore—"

"No, no, Minister," said Dolores again, and Pomona resisted the urge to vomit. "Perhaps... perhaps we should wait. By the end of the books, it will be much easier to... _put things in order_."

Her words sent a sickening chill down Pomona's spine, and she swore that, by the end of the books, _'order'_ would have a completely different meaning.

* * *

"Whoa," said Dennis Creevey. "Your wand—your wand is You-Know-Who's _brother?"_

Harry winced. He had hoped, rather desperately, that that little tidbit wouldn't get mentioned in—no such luck, of course. "Yes, Dennis," he said finally, and scowled, for while Dennis had turned away, not bothered at all, the rest of the Houses sneaked glances at him. Would it be like second year, then, when he might as well had been a Dark Lord for all the rumors spreading around? Or the fourth, when Rita Skeeter had torn his reputation to the point of no return?

* * *

"Dad?" Ron spluttered incredulously, as Arthur Weasley slid into the seat next to him. "What're you doing here, Dad?"

"Hello there, Ron," Arthur muttered out of the corner of his mouth. He looked straight at the front of the Hall, where the reading had begun to continue. "Just as an eye out. Order business."

Harry looked up sharply. "Mr. Weasley, what—?"

"Not now, it's too quiet, we'll be overheard too easily," said Arthur. "And, Harry—" Swiftly, he slid a package into Harry's lap, who sat across him. "Don't open it here," he warned. "Later, somewhere private."

* * *

Harry glanced every few minutes at the package. It was small, not too thick, badly wrapped and looked as though it had been done in a hurry. What was most interesting, though, was the letters written on it, in blotchy ink: _SB_. And beside it was a paw print.

Harry had a very good idea who 'SB' was.

Clutching the package a little tighter, he looked back up at the dreaded book. He barely cared about what was being read now, though the other students were making quite a lot of noise. _Who cares if I'd almost been Sorted into Slytherin, anyway_? he thought irritably, as the students began to whisper. _I need to open this stupid package!_

* * *

"Severus." Dumbledore's voice was colder than the time Dementors had stormed the Quidditch pitch, and his face more frightening than the time Mundungus Fletcher had left his post. "You disappoint me."

Severus Snape sat, his posture stiff, in front of the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore was giving him _that_ look, like he could see right through your head, and he heightened his Occlumency shields out of instinct, wondering if he should feel lucky or terrified they were alone in the office—at least, alone unless you counted the eavesdropping portraits, pretending to be asleep, and the Sorting Hat, sitting limply on top of a shelf.

"Disappoint you in what way?" asked Severus, in a weak attempt to play dumb. He was well aware of what the old man was talking about.

"Must you be so biased towards the students?" said Dumbledore, responding to his question with another. "You are fortunate no one has decided to remove you from the staff."

"You know that isn't true, Headmaster," the Potions Master said coolly. "Dozens of people—mediocre Gryffindors, mostly, I think—would want me gone from Hogwarts forever."

"And with good reason, I realize only now, Severus!" said Dumbledore, and his gaze was the fiercest Severus had seen. He averted his eyes. "You gave Harry no chance to prove himself, instead striking immediately with a mindless hatred! And it is the same with all the houses apart from your own!"

Despite himself, a sneer made its way onto Severus' face. "I was merely testing him to see if he would be a worthy student or not. Obviously _not."_

"You singled him out," corrected the Headmaster quietly. "You singled him out on his very first day in your class, Severus. If he holds you without respect today, it is no wonder."

When Severus did not answer, Dumbledore added, almost in an idle sort of way: "He has Lily's eyes, Severus. He is her son. Remember that."

Severus jerked as though he had been hit, the words stinging worse than a thousand Torture Curses.

He turned his face away, to Fawkes' empty cage; the phoenix was off delivering a letter for the Order. He forced himself not to meet the Headmaster's eyes, which were still staring at him, the usual twinkle replaced with something like regret. Finally Dumbledore stood and strode across the room. Just as he was about to leave, he called out, "We shall resume the reading after dinner. Do try and come, Severus."

And the Headmaster exited, leaving Severus alone.

* * *

"A mirror?" Hermione asked in disbelief, staring at the thing as Harry turned it around in his hands. "Sirius went through all that trouble to get you a _mirror,_ of all things?"

She, Ron, and Harry had run off to the Room of Requirement for a few moments (which, thankfully, had turned into a rather roomy place with a table and chairs) the first chance they had to open Sirius' parcel, only to find a piece of glass. Not exactly very encouraging, especially when they had just finished a chapter like The Potions Master.

Ron nodded. "Bit anticlimactic, that."

"He wouldn't send this for no reason," said Harry, still staring hard at the mirror as though waiting for words to appear on them. "Maybe—maybe there's some sort of message..."

Hermione frowned, and took the package wrappings, before noticing a piece of parchment beneath the rags. "Wait, look—there's a note!"

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"Yes, here—" Hurriedly she straightened the crumpled scroll and read aloud:

"_Dear Harry, and maybe Ron and Hermione,_

_This is a two-way mirror—_"

"No way!" said Ron, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "But those are almost as rare as Invisibility Cloaks!"

Harry shrugged, and Hermione, having never heard of two-way mirrors, continued.

"_This is a two-way mirror. I haven't much time because Arthur's about to leave, so just say my name in front of the mirror and I'll explain then._" She looked up.

"That's it?" Harry asked, and she nodded. Two-way mirrors—she'd never encountered such a term, so she supposed it really must be quite rare. She glanced at Ron, who was now staring at the mirror in some kind of awe.

"Well?" said Ron, "Go on, then!"

Looking just as bewildered as she was, Harry cleared his throat and said loudly, "Sirius Black!"

In spite of everything, Hermione found herself leaning forward in anticipation, watching the mirror. "I don't—" she started, but jumped as Sirius Black's face appeared in the frame. "Sirius!" she said, and her voice wasn't alone.

"Bloody _hell—"_

"Sirius, how in Merlin's name—"

But Sirius was grinning. "Brilliant, don't you think?" he asked offhandedly. "We used these all the time in school—as long as I've got a mirror and so've you, we're free to talk, and it's completely untraceable. Used it all the time in school, really. _Great_ for passing time in detention."

Hermione couldn't help it—she smiled, too. "Well, so long as it's not risky..."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," said Ron, "Sirius just said it's completely untraceable!"

"Yep," said Sirius. "Just wanted to see how you're holding up, Harry—I don't reckon getting your life read out to Hogwarts is a piece of cake."

Harry's expression darkened. "No t exactly," he agreed. "Worse part is, it's all in my point of view. Honestly, I can't even remember thinking half of that stuff."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Brings back a ton of memories."

"I know, I know," said Sirius. "But it'll all be over soon. The Ministry can't go against their own rules. When they see Voldemort's back, they'll either have to stop and say it's a lie, or go on and accept he's back. It might be horrible, but it's an absolute win-win situation in the end, and that Umbridge woman is going to pay for it all."

Harry gave a sort of sigh, though he looked much more relieved. "I know that," he said. "But thanks, I guess, Sirius."

"Not a problem," answered Sirius easily. "Not much to do when you're stuck at some accursed house with a mad house-elf for company."

Hermione frowned. She knew Sirius had probably been brooding. "Sirius—"

"Now, don't you worry about me," he warned. "I'll be alright. You just focus on getting through those books."

"Okay, then," said Ron, for once sounding solemn. "Sirius, do you think you'll get freed? I mean, that part in third year has _got_ to be there..."

A grin spread back over Sirius' face again. "Hopefully," he nodded.

"Of course you will!" said Harry. "If they don't, then they're just being stupid!"

Sirius laughed, though there was something hollow about it. "They're already being stupid, Harry," he said. "But if it cheers you up, then alright—it's not like I don't look forward to being proven innocent."

Harry grinned nervously. "If you say so," he said. "I—"

_Riiiiing!_

Hermione jumped and glanced up; an alarm clock on a shelf was ringing madly, and she quickly sent a Silencing charm at it.

"It's six o'clock," she said. "Harry, they'll be looking for us soon."

"Well, alright then, I suppose," said Sirius, and while he was still grinning, the light no longer quite reached his eyes. "Go on, then, before you make people suspicious—especially Umbridge. If you need me, I'll be right here."

Nevertheless, Harry frowned, and Hermione fought down the urge to sigh in exasperation. "Are you sure—"

"Of course, Harry," said Sirius firmly. "Merlin, have some faith in me! I'll be fine, alright? Really, you're the one who's about to have their life read out."

"Don't remind me," Harry grumbled, but at last he said goodbye and slipped the mirror in his pocket.

"Let's go," Hermione said. "Before Umbridge takes points off for being five seconds late."

And, invigorated by their talk with Sirius—however short—they raced down the floors to the Great Hall.

* * *

"I don't believe it," Neville said, and Harry looked at him. "You were _so_ rude to each other. I mean, Ron and Hermione still argue daily, but here..." He shook his head. "What gave?"

"Yeah," said Dean, who looked mystified. "You're all so mean—even you, Harry! If I saw you guys then, I would've never thought you'd end up best friends."

"That's true," said Lavender. "How did you become friends?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.

"Oh, y'know," Harry said finally. "Just the, uh, _usual_ way."

He saw Ron duck his head to hide his snicker and Hermione bite her lip hard to keep from smiling; he was careful not to meet any of their eyes, lest he laugh as well.

* * *

"How dare you!"

Dolores was shrieking. At Potter. _Again._

_If she does that one more time_, Minerva swore, _I_ will_ hex her_.

"How dare you sneak out—and it's only your first year! You—"

The fact that Severus was for once nodding along as though relishing in Potter's trouble did not help one bit.

Minerva wanted to scoff. _Like she really would have cared if it was a different student! She didn't even pay attention to the fact that Draco Malfoy had been the one to talk him into sneaking out!_ she thought venomously, and glanced at Potter, and saw the poor boy's face in his hands and gripping his hair as if to say_ please-stop-talking-now-before-I-go-completely-men tal_, his fingers twitching as though he longed to draw his wand.

Minerva didn't blame him. Of course, if it was any other teacher (even Trelawney, the fraud) she would have given him detention for such blatant disrespect, but sometimes there were exceptions.

After Umbridge had let loose on Potter for a good five minutes and still had no intention of stopping (and now even Severus looked pained), Minerva snapped, "It is four years into the past, Dolores. I think it hardly matters." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Potter slump in relief.

"Hardly matters? This is a matter of extreme unruliness, Minerva! How can you suggest—"

_Hogwarts is unruliness in a nutshell, and that will never change if I can help it!_ Minerva wanted to scream, but instead replied, "It can no longer be helped, Dolores! He is hardly the first student to go out after curfew—Filch may attest to that, I think! And at the moment there is not much you can do about it!"

Fuming but clearly beaten, Dolores sat down.

Distinctly, she saw Potter mouth to her, eyes wide, _thank you_ so_ much, ma'am_.

Minerva lifted her chin and turned her eyes back to the book as if she had never noticed any such thing.

* * *

"A _Cerberus?"_

"That was in the _school?"_

_"Shit._ And we almost decided to try and get in there, Seamus! Remember?"

"Oh, Merlin, if that thing had gotten _loose..."_

"You see? I told you Dumbledore was senile, Romilda! I _told_ you!"

Ron rubbed his eyes. He could see the reasons why Harry hated these books so much. He could see them quite clearly.

* * *

"This needs to stop, Albus," Filius Flitwick said weakly over lunch. For the first time, he could not find himself in enough of an appetite. Abandoning his steak in favor of his pumpkin juice, he said, "These books are taking too much out of me."

"I'm afraid there's nothing to be done," said Albus sadly. "But Fudge _has_ crossed the line."

"Indeed," scowled Minerva. "If this goes on, all my hairs will be white by the end of it all."

"Not much to go, then, I suppose," joked Pomona feebly; Minerva shot her a look. "How on earth did they figure it out? They were only first years!"

"All because Hagrid said Hogwarts was a safe place to hide something and that there was a trapdoor in a room with a three-headed dog," Filius said. "You must admit, Minerva, they're quite smart."

_"Or_ that they're nosy little—"

"Don't you start, Severus!" Minerva warned.

* * *

"Oh, God," said Padma Patil. "You—you call _that_ the usual way to make friends, then? Defeating a _troll?"_

"With a Levitating charm," said Ron cheerfully.

Padma slumped in her chair. _Gryffindors,_ she thought weakly.

* * *

"_The Mirror of Erised_."

Ginny frowned. _Erised_ was hardly a word, but surely it meant something or other... perhaps she'd ask Luna; everyone thought the girl was a bit silly, Ginny knew, but Luna wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing.

"Oh, _no,"_ she heard Harry moan as the book began to read itself. "There's no chance we can skip this, is there?"

"Well, no," said Hermione quietly. "I'm afraid not. Maybe you can ask Professor Dumbledore, Harry—"

"I don't want to," said Harry immediately. "He won't be able to do anything, anyway."

"You're only saying that because he's ignoring you," said Hermione, sounding annoyed. "Honestly, Harry..."

"Oh, leave him alone, Hermione," Ron said, careful to keep his voice low so they wouldn't interrupt the reading. But not low enough, apparently; Ginny could still hear them. "This chapter won't be easy for any of us. D'you think she'll take away your Cloak, Harry?"

"What Cloak?" Ron glared at her, but Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you. I was sitting beside you, Ron, how can I help it if you're talking loud enough for me to hear? So—what Cloak? And what's this mirror?"

"Nothing," Ron and Hermione said. Harry said nothing at all. The book kept reading. Ginny scowled.

_A cloak... what's so important about a_ cloak?_ Unless..._

"It's not an _Invisibility_ Cloak, is it?" she gasped, staring at the three of them. Several heads turned their way, though to her relief none of them seemed too interested.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were silent; Ginny glared at them. Guiltily, Harry winced at her gaze and said, "Er, yeah—it's an Invisibility Cloak. From my dad." He sent her a strange look. "Just don't tell anyone, or else."

"You're serious? Of course I won't tell anyone!" Ginny whispered, awed. "That's bloody amazing. Don't see the point, though," she said carefully, "Since they'll find out all about it. But I think Umbridge won't be able to take it, if it's from your father. It's a family heirloom."

"Hopefully," said Harry, though his voice was an absolute monotone.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Aren't you a bright little ray of sunshine," she said, and, though she knew she was pressing her luck, added, "What about this Erised you were talking about?"

"Well," said Ron slowly, "it's a mirror."

"Good to know, Ron," said Ginny. "What's _Erised_ mean?"

"Desire," said Hermione, looking resigned. "Erised is _desire_ spelled backwards."

"'The Mirror of Desire'?" Ginny asked. "What does it... what does it show, then? If you look in it?"

"It shows you the thing you desire most," said Harry darkly. "Only you won't be able to get it. It's all just a stupid illusion."

Ginny didn't know why, but those words sent a grimace to her face and knots in her stomach.

* * *

Almost immediately the Hall shifted, the students murmuring and talking and gossiping, and Ginny _hated_ it. Harry sat almost across her, and though his face looked perfectly relaxed, she noticed his fingers clenched so tightly around his goblet of pumpkin juice it was a surprise it hadn't exploded.

"That's what you desire most?" Ginny asked softly. She knew he hated pity, but how was she supposed to stop the ache in her chest? "You wish your parents were back?"

Harry's gaze snapped to her, and the facade slipped off of his face, displaying anger and desperation—though mostly anger, and for a moment Ginny was afraid he would snap at her, but then he flinched, so slightly and unnoticeably she wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't been watching him so closely, and he said:

"Every day."

* * *

"That's—that's insane! You found out who Nicholas Flamel was from a _chocolate frog card_?"

Harry just shrugged, staring resolutely at the book. Didn't they _know_ how dreadful it was to have their lives read out in front of everyone they knew, regardless of how private it was? And it was only his _first_ year... He gritted his teeth._ Just ignore them_, he thought, feeling extremely fed up. _You always have._

* * *

"Bloody fu—"

"Ron!"

"What?" asked Ron dully, but instead of bickering, Hermione simply covered her face with her hands.

Neville was white. "Then—you don't mean—the dragon was _real?"_ he finally choked out.

"Good Lord," Ron heard McGonagall murmur, sounding more shocked and frightened than all the times they had made her shocked and frightened combined. "Hagrid—how on _earth—?"_

"So!" Cornelius Fudge snarled, and he stood and glared up at Hagrid, who, despite being nearly twice as tall as the man, grimaced and slumped as though wishing he could shrink into his seat. "Been taking in illegal dragon's eggs, have you, now? We'll see about that, now... we'll see..."

Panic and anger immediately took its place in Ron's head. _You're going to arrest Hagrid for something that happened years ago!_ he wanted to yell. _That's got to be_ wrong_ somehow!_ But when he glanced at Hermione, he saw that her face was still in her hands, like she was afraid to see what would happen. Ron looked to Harry, and saw that he was just as horrified as he.

"Oh, that's right," said Harry, looking disgusted, "Send a man to Azkaban for something that happened_ four damn years ago_!"

"Language, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Four years ago or not, it was still clearly illegal. Now—"

"Why can't you—why can't you wait until all the books are finished?" shouted Ron.

"Wait until the books are finished? But we have already done that, when Hagrid gave a Muggle a pig's tail! We cannot hold it off any longer, surely?"

For the first time, Ron did not burst into laughter at the words 'pig's tail'. This time he shouted back: "The dragon's not even there now! You—you can't just accuse Hagrid of—of—"

"I believe we can!" said Umbridge, now shooting him a dirty look.

"At least wait until... until the third book!" Ron amended. "Then you can send him to Azkaban forever."

At the last sentence, Hermione looked up from her hands, startled, while Harry's mouth fell open and he stared at Ron as though he had never quite seen him before. Ron did not dare meet their eyes.

The Minister, though, seemed to be considering this. "Fine," he said, and though his tone was clipped, it meant relief, temporary or not, to Ron.

* * *

"Ron," whispered Hermione five minutes later, "What on earth were you talking about? _'Send him to Azkaban forever'_—Ron, how can you even _say_ that?"

Ron frowned. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured what out?" Harry chipped in, and Ron wondered if this was how Harry felt like whenever he and Hermione ganged up on him.

"Look," said Ron, "I was just doing that to get Fudge's attention. Anyway, Hagrid won't ever be sent to Azkaban, because by the end of the second book it'll be pretty clear he never deserved to get expelled in the first place, remember?"

Harry and Hermione blinked.

_"Oh..."_ Harry mumbled. "Oh, yeah... Merlin, I feel _stupid,_ now..."

"Right, of _course,"_ said Hermione, and she met Ron's eyes, a bright, beaming smile spreading over her face, and Ron felt his insides flutter. "Oh, why didn't _I_ think of that?"

"Yeah," Harry said, beaming. _"Sneaky._ Never would have pegged _you_ for a Slytherin, mate."

"I am _not_ a Slytherin!" Ron protested, but he could feel his face stretching into a grin.

* * *

"Ah, Harry?"

A little surprised, Harry froze in the middle of saying the common room password and glanced behind him to see Seamus. He hadn't talked to him much since the start of the year—mostly they just avoided each other, or Seamus would always call him by his last name. "Yeah?"

Seamus gulped, and dug his hands into his robes.

"I..." He trailed off. There was a long, awkward silence, and Harry almost decided Seamus was simply messing with his head when he said quickly, almost frantically: "Look, I'm sorry I called you a liar or whatnot, alright? I... I know I was a right git, okay, but guess I just hadn't expected the Prophet to lie like that, and I—I sent a letter to me mum, and she said if I think you're not mad then you probably aren't, so—well... you don't _seem_ mad anymore..." He grinned nervously, and held out a hand.

Harry laughed agreeably, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted off of his chest, and shook it.

"Touching," said the Fat Lady dryly. "Now, if you have any plans to get in one of these days, you can tell me the password, but oh, stay there as long as you want, I'll be right here."

* * *

"No way," said Lavender. "You rode on a _centaur?"_

"More importantly," said Parvati, "A centaur _let_ you ride him?"

Harry felt the blood rush to his face. "Well," he said uncomfortably, "Firenze is one of the more... helpful centaurs, I guess. The others would probably have left me there. Some of the other centaurs in his herd were even angry at him for it, I think."

Dean shook his head, grinning. "Doesn't make it any less fantastic."

* * *

"You—you went down the trapdoor? _Alone?"_ cried Minerva McGonagall from the Staff table. Her face was pale, her voice frantic, one hand to her heart. "Why did you—didn't tell someone? Why didn't you tell _me?_ I am your Head of House!"

Her three students shifted in their seats, looking guiltily at each other.

Finally Potter said: "Er—we did, Professor."

For one fleeting moment Minerva blinked, confusion plastering her face—before, if possible, paling even more, both of her hands moving to her mouth.

And so they had. How could she have been so foolish?

* * *

In less than a second, a buzz of murmurs rose in the room. "Oh God," someone said, voice squeaky with fright. "Y-You-Know-Who was on the back of Quirrel's head? So he was _with_ us? In-in the school, in DADA—heck, in the _Great Hall_?" And another mumbled, disbelieving, "That—that's impossible. He—he's not back! I don't believe it!"

Harry had never felt so, so _sick_ of it all. How could they still deny it, when the facts were standing straight and firm and right in front of their bloody faces?

Still the whispers continued, relentless, until Harry finally snarled, bitterly, disgustedly, "Yes, that's right. Voldemort's alive. He didn't have a body then, but it's not much of a stretch if he was back now, I suppose. Rather _surprising,_ isn't it?"

The Hall plummeted into a deadly silence.

Umbridge, predictably, was the one who broke it. _Killjoy,_ Harry thought. She had sat in her seat, staring in shock and anger and disbelief, so still she could have been a Basilisk victim, but now she shook her head over and over, and said, almost a whisper, _"No._ That is impossible—"

_"Is it?"_ demanded Harry, not bothering to hide his anger, which was, perhaps, coupled with a hint of dread. It was all done now; he had wanted nothing more than to show those Ministry idiots that Voldemort truly _was_ back before, but now he felt terribly... exposed. _Vulnerable._

Gripping the table so hard his knuckles turned white, the words _I must not tell lies_ standing out against his pale skin, he gritted out: "Call me a liar now, _Professor_." He said the last word with barely concealed disgust, a faked tone of politeness when Dolores Jane Umbridge most certainly did not deserve it.

Umbridge seemed to snap out of her trance, immediately putting on an indifferent mask. "They—they _lie_!" she claimed violently. "The books are simply not stating fact—"

Hermione had had enough. "Oh, what a waste of _time_, then! Days and days wasted for _nothing_—!"

Cornelius Fudge flushed with rage—though perhaps he was, as well, a tinge embarrassed.

Around the Hall, Harry saw the students mutter and shift in their seats, realizing that the books couldn't possibly have lied, not after all that they had read and the statements that had held true—

"You tampered with them!" Umbridge shrieked wildly, and Harry would later swear that she had looked a ten times more insane than Voldemort in that moment. "You-Know-Who on—on the back of someone's head, indeed! Which one of you did it? Who changed the text—?"

It was Ron's turn to scoff. "Professor," he began in a voice that was clearly only faking kindness, "wouldn't it take a lot of hard work to do that? I mean, us students couldn't _possibly_ have been able to."

A few of the students shifted in indignation, saying that _of course_ they'd have been able to, but most had caught on, and Ginny added, "Besides, shouldn't the books be under a lot of security? We'd never have been able to do it. Imagine if they were _stolen_..." She trailed off, whispering to her friends, which only served to turn Umbridge a brighter shade of red, and Harry felt just the tiniest bit of triumph, irritation wearing off in light of his friends.

"Yes," said Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, whose lips twitched upwards in the smallest smirk, though his face suggested nothing but polite curiosity, "that'd be very _embarrassing_ for the Ministry, wouldn't it?"

"It would seem so—so _incompetent,_ you mean," said Padma Patil, eyes wide in mock-disbelief, and the murmurings grew; Umbridge and the Minister flushed.

A few looked away to hide their smirks. Harry, of course, did not bother to conceal any such amusement, and full-out grinned.

* * *

"Harry Potter!"

Harry jumped, recognizing the voice immediately. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "That's Sirius," he said. "But how on earth could Sirius be—oh." Realization dawned.

"The mirror, Harry! Come on, we need to find some place to talk—"

Squeezing away into an old, unused classroom, Harry pulled the mirror out. "Sirius, you can't just do that anytime you want to! If anyone had heard, or recognized your voice—"

"My voice hasn't been heard by anyone outside the Order, Hermione, and the Weasleys for twelve years," Sirius said, appearing in the frame. There was no smile on his face. "Harry, we need to talk."

Harry's brows furrowed. "That sounds strangely ominous."

"It does, doesn't it? But Harry, I'm not kidding—see, Arthur's caught me up in the readings."

Harry and Ron sat down on one of the desks as Hermione cast Locking and Silencing charms on the door. Feeling a little unnerved now that Sirius knew every single detail of the books, he asked, "Yeah, Sirius?"

* * *

_Honestly_, Harry thought angrily, sitting down in the Quidditch stands. Not for the first time, he wished he had his Firebolt back with him. _You'd think I'd died or something. It was four years ago, and it never really came up, what was I supposed to do?_

"They're really worried for you, you know." Caught by surprise, Harry glanced behind him, his hand already halfway to his wand before he realized it was Ginny Weasley.

She smiled cheerfully at him and sat down. "Ron and Hermione, I mean. Sirius too. It's honestly not their fault, you know—anybody would be shaken by the thought of facing—facing _him_ at eleven years old. They've been looking for you. I think the first book's done—the next was held off for tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Harry asked grimly. "Why don't _they_ try having half their life read out?" Ginny frowned but kept silent. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

Ginny grinned. "This, of course." And to Harry's astonishment, she pulled out the Marauder's map. It had not been wiped; she set it between them, and he spotted his dot alongside with Ginny's.

"How'd you—"

"Oh, come off it," said Ginny carelessly. "I've been going to DA meetings for ages and you _always_ bring this," she said. "Didn't exactly take long for me to figure it out. Ron's been looking for it to help find you, but hey, I got it first. I haven't figured out how to make it blank again, though."

"Oh," said Harry, staring at her in surprise. "Well—thanks for not telling everyone, then." He grinned. "And if you want to make it blank, just say 'Mischief managed' and it'll disappear."

"Really?" said Ginny, pulling out her wand. "Mischief managed," she said, tapping her wand on the map. The ink vanished, turning it back to what could be identified as a useless sheet of parchment. "Wow," she breathed. She looked back up at Harry. "Did you make it? Or the twins?"

"Nah. I'm not that good at Charms," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Fred and George didn't make it, though they did give it to me in third year. Believe it or not, it was my Dad, Lupin, Sirius and Wormtail—Peter Pettigrew, I mean."

Ginny frowned. "Wormtail? Wasn't he the traitor?"

Harry scowled, and he turned his head to look back at the field. "Yeah, but they were really close friends at Hogwarts. Called themselves the Marauders. Then Wormtail betrayed them."

"Oh," Ginny said softly. "Sorry I asked. That was tactless."

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind," he said honestly. Well, normally he probably would, but somehow he didn't mind Ginny saying anything.

"No, really!" Ginny insisted. "You—well, you _should_ mind. It's unfair, you know. The reading and everything. If—if anyone had to read about—about _my_ first year—" She broke off suddenly, not looking at him, and Harry immediately felt horrible for her, realizing his second year would, frankly, be hell on earth to read about.

"But it'll be in the next book, won't it," he said quietly, and Ginny flinched. "But you can always leave, if you want to..."

"No," said Ginny suddenly, and Harry blinked. "No, I don't want to leave. I mean, that—that won't be very Gryffindor of me, won't it," she said quickly, her shoulders tensing.

Harry snorted. "Ginny, _I'm_ not being very Gryffindor at the moment," he said. "But I suppose I understand the part about not wanting to skip." Ginny nodded, biting her lip. "Though I don't know if I'll be able to help it, when the third task—" He sucked in a breath, memories flooding him, and allowed himself a wince of his own.

"Can't blame you," Ginny said, her voice low. Harry looked at her and nodded, relaxing in her support. She sighed in relief and smiled a little, turning again to look at the pitch, and they sat together in companionable silence. Harry stared at her, and suddenly thought she was rather cute.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind did Harry jerk in surprise; Ginny, thankfully, did not notice. _Where had that thought come from?_ He gulped, a swooping, tingling sensation taking part in the pit of his stomach, and was glad when she did not turn her attention to him. Then he cringed, turning away so she would not see his face. _She's Ron's sister..._

Nevertheless, his attention turned elsewhere. They soon talked of other things—Quidditch, Ginny's Valentine in first year (which made Harry flush and Ginny laugh embarrassedly), Umbridge (whom Ginny insisted on calling Toadface), the Marauders, pranks—and Harry found he was truly enjoying himself for the first time in a long time, though he was having a hard time trying not to stare at her too much. He felt a bit guilty, though, knowing that if Ron found out Harry liked his only _sister—well..._

Soon enough, though, it started getting dark, and they both agreed to get back to the castle.

"They'll be looking for you, I bet," Ginny said with a laugh.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Probably think I went to destroy the stupid books, or something as stupid."

"Oh, come on," Ginny said gently. "They're just worried about you. I mean, they're kinda paranoid, but they _do_ care."

"I suppose so," Harry conceded, standing up and daring to hold out a hand. "Shall we go, then?"

"We shall," said Ginny dramatically, taking Harry's hand to pull herself up and holding her nose up as though in a snobbish fashion.

Harry snorted. "You look like an idiot," he remarked, but in truth he thought she looked quite elegant.

"I do _not!"_ Ginny said indignantly, swatting his arm playfully as they walked out of the pitch. "Come on, they've probably sent out a search party of some sort."

"They'll be looking for you too," Harry reminded her. Very carefully, he added, "Bet Michael Corner won't be too happy with me. He seems like the jealous type."

Ginny's brow furrowed for a moment, and Harry watched her cautiously. "Won't be too happy—?" she started, and realization dawned on her face. "Oh," she said, and grinned. "Michael? I ditched him about half a week ago. He told me Y—V-Voldemort," she corrected herself, and Harry felt his liking for her grow further, "he told me Voldemort wasn't possibly back all those years ago, and he said he couldn't really believe he is now. Well, his loss, anyway," she finished, and suddenly, Harry felt very, very relieved that Ginny was not dating anyone.

"Really?" he asked casually, trying not to sound too happy. "He shouldn't be in the DA, then."

"Well, he mostly just tagged along with me, the git," Ginny answered. "But then again, Zacharias Smith is in, too, and there's not really anything much you can do about it."

"No, guess not."

"Oh, and Harry?"

Harry's heart beat a little faster when she said his name. "Yeah?"

Laughing, Ginny took off, shouting over her shoulder: "Last one inside the castle is a Ministry toad!"

"Wha—Hey, _wait_! Not fair, Ginny!"

* * *

**AN:** _Guhhh. This took me a long time to write - but it's completely worth it! I especially love messing around with Umbridge and Fudge! :DDD I'm afraid the next chapter will take a while, considering school's started (It starts in June and ends in the last week of March in my country. Bugger.). So - thoughts?_


	3. The Second Legend

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot._

* * *

**Truth and Lies**

_The Second Legend_

* * *

If Harry had dreaded the first book, he was positively horrified by the prospect of the second. This, he knew, would entail several Petrifications, rogue bludgers, Aragog, and a basilisk. And there was Polyjuice potion, too. Harry wasn't exactly looking forward to that. Snape would _murder_ him, aided by the entirety of Slytherin house. Hermione _said_ he was exaggerating, but at least Ron was with him on that one.

He watched, scowling, as the Hall began to fill. They would be starting the next book today.

* * *

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said, startled, as the man slid casually into the seat across him. He glanced around the Hall and was glad to find no one was paying attention to them. He turned back to Lupin. "What're you—?"

"Keeping guard," he said quietly, his voice urgent. "Ron, your father's got business to attend to at the Ministry, so I'm afraid he won't be able to come. And Harry, someone's here to see you."

"Who—?" began Harry, but before he could finish, a large black dog bounded up to him and his licked his face. "Si—Snuffles?" he gasped, as the Animagus started barking loudly. If there had even been the smallest bout of irritation Harry felt about Sirius, it was all wiped away, and Harry laughed, wiping the saliva off his face. "Gross!"

"Oh—but this is _so_ risky!" said Hermione with wide eyes even as she scratched Padfoot behind the ears. "What if somebody who knows about it sees?"

"No worries, Hermione," said Lupin, his mouths tugging upwards in a smile. "We put a Notice-Me-Not charm on him. Only we, the Weasleys, Dumbledore and Minerva will know. It's only a precaution—after all once we reach the end of the third book..."

"Sirius could be freed," Harry said. He stared down at Padfoot, whose tail wagged madly; suddenly reading out his entire life didn't seem such a bad idea. "They'll _have_ to believe it."

"Definitely," Lupin agreed. "Also, if the Ministry's going to have spies lurking around, I don't see why we can't, either."

"Spies?" asked Harry. He looked up at the staff table and saw two new people sitting by the Minister. With a jolt, he realized he recognized them.

"Percy," snarled Ron, making to get up. "I'll _kill_ him—"

"Ron, don't!" hissed Hermione, while Harry held his arms back. "You can't—you mustn't rise! You'll just get into trouble, Ronald, and then what will happen?"

Shaking, Ron sat back down, glaring at Percy and muttering angry words under his breath; Harry put a firm hand on his shoulder. A few seats away, he saw Ginny and the twins being held down by Lee, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie.

"Wait a minute," said Ron suddenly. "Isn't the other one—?"

"Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, turning to the blond-haired man currently speaking with Fudge. "Yeah." A mixture of anger and unease burned in him. The last time he'd seen Lucius Malfoy had been after the hearing, and Merlin knew _that_ hadn't gone too well. The second-to-last time, he had been in the graveyard being tortured by Voldemort.

They weren't exactly on good terms.

Glancing at the Slytherin table, he was not surprised to find Draco Malfoy looking particularly smug. He ground his teeth together.

"But—but he's a Death Eater!" Hermione said, aghast.

"Voldemort's using Malfoy, then," said Harry, looking back at Lupin, who nodded in confirmation.

"You guessed it," said Lupin grimly. "It was too easy, of course. Anyone whose father was a Death Eater could easily have sent a letter saying that those books were being read; there's just no way to get around that. Voldemort will have known about the books now, and what better way to gain information than through them?"

Harry let out a long breath. Voldemort knew about the books... of course he knew, that much was unpreventable, he shouldn't even be surprised... but Harry knew very well the consequences a few words could have, however insignificant, whenever it had been put into the wrong hands.

"And... and Fudge?" said Harry slowly.

"Fudge doesn't believe he's a Death Eater, of course. He's why the Order decided we needed more eyes in Hogwarts, just in case. Severus isn't too trusted by Voldemort yet; Lucius is nothing special, but his connection to the Ministry is an asset for them. As for Sirius—well, we can only hope he'll be free by the fourth book."

Harry nodded. At the front of the Hall, the book had already begun to read itself. "And if Fudge's got any sense left, Lucius Malfoy will be sacked by the end of _this_ book," he vowed, thinking of the diary. Lupin, Ron, and Hermione looked at him in surprise, but he only said, "You just wait."

* * *

"How _horrible_!" whispered Pansy in Draco's ear, and he jumped. Nobody noticed, and the book kept on reading itself. "If we found out _our_ elf was like that, we'd give him clothes immediately!"

"What?" muttered Draco, irritated. Contrary to popular belief, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were _not_ best friends, though Pansy always seemed to think otherwise. "Pansy, I'm not in a mood to discuss a book on Potter's life right now. I never will be, actually, so don't bother."

"You haven't been listening, have you?" said Blaise knowingly, and Draco sent him a warning look. "Then again, neither have I. What happened last, again, Theo?"

"Potter's got an elf in his room," said Theodore Nott in a long-suffering voice. "His name is Dobby, he keeps punishing himself, and he keeps saying Potter's life is in danger. I suppose that's referring to the Mudbloods being Petrified, though how he found out I've no idea. Utterly mental, in my opinion."

"_Dobby_?" Blaise asked. "Wasn't that the name of _your_ elf, Draco? The one who got freed at the end of the year?"

"The name's familiar," said Draco, though flares of anger licked at his insides, and he scowled. "Potter must have been the one to free him," he spat. "I should've known." But Draco knew better than to protest in an entire Hall of students, professors, and Ministry officials; instead he cast a furious glance at Potter and Weasley, who were both smirking furtively at the book, while Granger frowned.

He sneered. "We were better off without the stupid thing, anyway," he said coolly.

* * *

"Goodness," Fudge said, sounding flustered. "Why, a House-elf cast the Hover charm? Why, who would've thought—"

"But you never thought to check, did you," said Professor McGonagall furiously. "Never decided to know for sure!"

"Now, Minerva, how was I supposed to know? House-elves visiting other wizards—why, until now, it's absolutely unheard of! Why would I suspect such a thing?"

But his tone was extremely anxious. Lucius Malfoy, Harry was pleased to see, was looking absolutely livid beside the Minister, for what he knew was a completely different reason. Padfoot was growling loudly from his place beside Harry, and Hermione and the Weasleys were all sending dirty looks at Fudge. Harry, though, stared almost calmly back at the front table.

As Fudge tried to reason on, Amelia Bones stood. "I should go back to the Ministry," she said simply, and the Minister fell silent. "I daresay Potter's record ought to be completely cleaned of that."

As she walked out of the Great Hall, Harry flashed her an appreciative grin and could've sworn he received a shadow of a smirk in return.

* * *

"You're wearing a hole in the floor, Sirius," said Remus gently. It was a fine thing they were up in Dumbledore's office, or Sirius might've exploded right in the middle of the Great Hall. "Calm down."

"I don't bloody care if I drive a path right through the earth," snapped Sirius, not stopping in his pacing. Remus watched his angry steps and caught only half of his words. "_Those Dursleys... if I was _free_, right _now_... what I would _give_..._"

"Sirius," said Albus. "Please—"

"DON'T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, OLD MAN!" Sirius roared, glaring at the headmaster. "THIS IS _YOUR_ FAULT! _YOU_ LEFT HIM THERE!"

"I know that," said Albus, and he looked so old and weary that Remus was startled by it all. "I deeply regret it, Sirius, you know I do."

Sirius looked livid. He opened his mouth, breathless with rage, then scowled and sank into his chair, defeated. "_Bars_ on the windows, Remus," he whispered. "And he was only _twelve_... and I kept complaining about _my_ stupid mother... compared to _those_ hags? I... I thought _I'd_ had it worse, Remus! I _wish_ I did!"

Remus so truly wanted to tell him he did, but he knew it would be a lie.

* * *

"Ouch. Good of you to get Harry from those Dursleys, but this is about to get pretty bad, isn't it?"

"Damn. You got caught, then? Bad luck, mate—and you were nearly there, too! I've met Mrs. Weasley..."

"_Brilliant_. Are you going to get a scolding?"

George flushed and put his chin morosely between his hands. "Shut up, Angelina."

* * *

Lucius' wand hand twitched. Potter had seen him go into Borgin and Burkes, all by accident, and he had not realized... _Careless_, he berated himself slightly, but he had been distracted that day. _Trouble, that boy, nothing but trouble._

"A visit to Knockturn Alley, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Minerva McGonagall coolly, and he turned, sharply, to face her. "But you wouldn't want to go _there_, surely? It has quite the infamous reputation, as I'm _sure_ you know."

"It is none of your business what I do," he said curtly, and nothing but years of Occlumency could have pushed his irritation down. "_I_ was in the right, I assure you."

"Oh, but of course," she said, though her smile was far too polite to be a sincere one.

* * *

"That's why you used this car?" said Madam Bones, frowning at them. "The barrier 'sealed' itself? And you didn't think to wait for your parents to come back?"

"It was Ron's idea," said Harry immediately.

"Git."

* * *

"Oh, _no_," Remus moaned. At his side, Padfoot rubbed against his knee in a kind of silent support. "Not _that_ tree. _Any_ tree but that. You didn't _really_ crash into that, surely?"

"That was exactly what happened," mumbled Ron, who was rubbing his chest roughly as though remembering where the Whomping Willow had hit him.

"Blimey," said Dean as he listened to the book. "It's _beating you up_!"

"That it is," said Ron. "I blame Harry's luck."

"Shut up," groaned Harry. And, in a slightly lower voice that was clearly only meant for Ron and Hermione, "And you're lucky that we took the car, actually. Remember Aragog?"

Ron scowled something back, but Remus immediately latched on to Harry's words; so had Sirius, who had too much of an advantage with a canine's sharp ears.

"Lucky?" said Remus in a slightly high voice that was not his own. "Do I even want to know what _Aragog_ is?"

Harry blinked. "Er—you'll find out later," he said, exchanging tired glances with Ron.

It didn't really sound very comforting.

* * *

"There is something wrong with that man," said Filius with a disgust he had not felt in a long time. "I hardly know everything in the world, but I do know that Harry Potter isn't a show-off!"

"On the contrary, he is the most arrogant student I have ever—"

"And none of that, Severus! You know as well as I do that Potter is nothing like that at all! When have you ever read about him flaunting his supposed achievements in the book?" demanded Minerva. "Name one event—_one _event, Severus—in these books where he even _thought_ about it, and then you can rub it in all our faces."

Severus Snape, once Filius' own student, scowled fiercely, but kept silent.

"Gilderoy was so stuck up," muttered Pomona in the venomous tone she reserved for people like Umbridge. "I had forgotten. What a git. And he keeps dragging Harry into it and saying he's 'done him a favor'! Is he mad?"

"He's fortunate it was _Potter_," said Minerva, raising her chin. "If that had been me, I would have hexed him into the next century."

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey sighed contentedly as she sank into a chair. She enjoyed her work, that much was true, but a little peace and quiet in the middle of a hectic school year was a nice break. Of course, the only thing the students were really doing was read a book.

"Madam Pomfrey!"

Startled, she glanced up. There stood Draco Malfoy in all his glory, except his face and arms were covered in boils, and his normally sleek blond hair was now colored a gleaming Gryffindor red.

"Goodness!" she said, drawing out her wand the setting immediately to work. Though she had a very good idea already, she asked, "How _ever_ did this happen, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Accident," said the Slytherin curtly.

Whether 'accident' was code for 'One of my spells went wrong' or 'I lost in a duel' or 'I called Granger a mudblood in second year and this happened', Poppy wasn't sure, but she would bet it was the last one.

(If it hadn't gone against her Healer instincts, she'd even have approved.)

* * *

"Oh, I'd feel so scared if that'd been me—you'd been hearing voices all that year?"

"That's _creepy_! Are you still hearing them now?"

"It's not just creepy, Cho, it's downright _mad_! But you're okay now, Harry, aren't you?"

Harry shut his eyes. The questions wouldn't have been so bad if their faces had looked more sober and not excited, or if their voices did not sound as if they longed for nothing but something else to gossip about.

* * *

"I feel horrible," Padma Patil groaned over lunch. She stared down her goblet of water and sighed. "You know what, I'm never going to be horrible to Harry again. Each time it just embarrasses me."

"Oh, come on," said Michael Corner through a mouthful of who-knew-what, though even he looked disgruntled. "We weren't mean or anything."

"Excuse me?" demanded Padma. "'Weren't mean?' First year," she started loudly, "we hated him, Ron, and Hermione for losing a couple of points and giving Slytherin some stupid Cup!"

"Wasn't _just_ a couple points," mumbled Michael, but indignation surged inside Padma like a tidal wave, and she glared so hard at him he backed off immediately.

"Second year," she continued, "we kept giving him a hard time because he was in all the wrong places in all the wrong times."

"You can't blame yourself for that, Padma," said Mandy Brocklehurst gently. "I'm not happy about it, but he _did_ seem suspicious, just because you're finally hearing about it from his point of view doesn't make it unreasonable."

"We were being so judgmental we could've given the Slytherins a run for their money!" said Padma.

Mandy frowned and Padma glared, but Michael interrupted: "Alright, alright, we get it. We didn't _mean_ to be mean. You're not the only one who's guilty. Now, you've got to eat something."

Padma narrowed her eyes at him, but relented. "I suppose," she said eventually, though for the most of it she simply pushed food around her plate.

* * *

"No way!" said a Gryffindor first year eagerly—_far too eagerly_, decided Hermione, slumping in her seat. "Filch's cat was _killed_?"

_Oh, I know they're excited because they were too young to be at Hogwarts when this went on, but is this going to happen in _every_ book?_

"Of course she wasn't, you saw her roaming the corridors this morning, didn't you? She was Petrified—"

"Wow—Petrified, as in, like, turned into a rock? Cool!"

And it was this remark, more than any other shout or exclamation, which made Hermione straighten up again, her head filling with glimpses of two great yellow eyes while her heart thundered with a mad urgency, and she said loudly: "It was most certainly not cool. It was scary and horrific and you should be glad it's not happening now."

* * *

Steps swift, Harry rushed down yet another corridor. _Why the hell didn't Ron wake him up?_ It wasn't like he _wanted_ to join the reading, but Umbridge would most definitely have another hissy fit if he wasn't there and he _really_ didn't fancy being late and have everyone stare at him. A lot of people were often late, of course, but it was a tad more disturbing when it was your life they were reading about.

"Look—over there—he's just passing—"

"Do you really think he's not the Heir of Slytherin? He's all innocent in the books, but come on..."

"He was even hearing voices in those books! And now he's saying You-Know-Who's returned—he's either a Dark wizard, or mental, or—"

Harry froze. _To hell with being late_, he thought, and turned around. A group of Ravenclaws all looking older than him jumped, and hurried away, casting glances at each other as though they expected him to hex them.

_Well, they should be worried,_ Harry thought furiously, breathing hard. _Like it was my fault... why don't they try having everyone talk about them, see how they like it..._

Ever faster, his steps nearing a stomp, he ran for the Great Hall.

* * *

"That thing's been tampered with!" said Remus, his voice nearing a yell. "Bludgers don't normally _do_ that, you realize!"

Minerva, former professor and colleague, grimaced. "We—well, we know, Remus."

"Then why on earth didn't you call off the match?"

"Because Wood would never have stood for it," she said. "Potter, too, come to think of it."

But Remus wasn't going to have her make up excuses again. They were the _adults_ here. It was _their_ job. He glared at them, but all the professors were silent, some in guilt, some (but that was only with Snape, actually) in indifference.

As the book told of Harry's broken arm (he tried very hard not to wince in sympathy, for Harry would never like it, he knew), he glanced sideways at Sirius; the dog's teeth were bared, not for the first time since this book, and he sighed. "You know, if you'd just forfeited, you might still have won in a rematch."

But Harry just blinked. "Who said we lost?" he asked casually; Remus froze in the middle of another admonishment.

Sure enough, he heard the book speaking of Harry's magnificent capture of the golden ball in the midst of a broken bone; the Weasley twins had begun to cheer very loudly, making the book's words inaudible, and the Slytherins were scowling.

Remus stared. "You _won_? With a Bludger like _that_?"

Sirius gave a bark that was vaguely the equivalent of a human laugh. Harry smirked.

"One downside, though..."

"Yeah, I remember now!" crowed Dean Thomas. "Lockhart Vanished your bones!"

"Pardon?" said Amelia Bones weakly. "Vanished?"

Dean grinned, quieted, and nodded to the book; within a few minutes it had described the entire incident, which, in Remus' opinion, had much too descriptive tones.

"Really, you should've seen his arm," nodded Ron agreeably. "It was all floppy and rubbery-ish and—" He cut off abruptly, laughing, as Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"I was _trying_ not to imagine it, mate."

* * *

"_Dobby_?" asked Neville incredulously. How was it possible that all this had passed by without him noticing, without _anyone_ noticing? "Dobby sealed the barrier and messed with the Bludger?"

Harry shrugged, but it was more of a shrug that told Neville he was simply avoiding the question. He shook his head. "Wow... but he could've seriously injured you..."

Harry shrugged again, and Neville realised he was starting to get annoyed by that gesture. He was not the only one asking questions; indeed, nearly the whole Hall was speaking at once. "That was pretty much the point," he said. "Get me injured enough to get sent back home."

"Or killed," said Professor Lupin hoarsely, and Neville couldn't help but agree.

Harry flushed. "Dobby's not bad," he said fiercely. "He just hadn't thought of any other way to help. And I owe him," he added thoughtfully. "I owe him a lot."

But only Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to understand what he was saying, and Neville wondered just how Harry ever came to 'owe' a house-elf.

* * *

"Oh..." Nausea was rolling in her stomach again. She wished the book would just shut up. _Colin had been a brilliant friend that year, and look, _look_ what she'd done to him!_ "Oh, God, Colin—you were Petrified—I forgot—I'm so sorry—"

"S'fine," said Colin. He was staring at her, looking confused, and Ginny knew that if she didn't stop they'd all figure it out too early but _she—couldn't—help—it_. "It wasn't your fault, Ginny, you've nothing to apologize for."

Ginny had quite a lot to apologize for, but Colin didn't know about that.

* * *

There was a ringing silence, but Harry got the feeling half the Hall was trying to hold in their laughter. He, on the other hand, felt more sober than he ever had in his life, and he'd never thought he would ever wish that they would get on with the reading—until now.

"So," said Snape quietly, breaking the stillness of the Hall, in that venomous, cold voice that screamed _run-for-it-if-you-want-to-live!_ "You _three_ found a foolish desire to brew Polyjuice potion, and so, _one_ of you"—his black eyes focused on Harry, who gulped—"decided to _disrupt_ the class, while another _stole_ the needed ingredients." In his mind, Harry began to plan his will. "Is that correct?"

"Um." Harry looked around for inspiration and found none. "We... plead not guilty?"

"I seem to remember," Snape hissed, "saying that _whoever_ threw that firework would be facing _expulsion_." His face was white with anger; Harry's was white with horror. Beside him, Snuffles started barking furiously. Umbridge and the Minister looked positively gleeful. "Now—"

"Severus," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Headmaster, _I will not have them in this school_—"

"The firework was obviously a foolish thing to set off, Severus, and they thought brewing the potion necessary. It was nearly four years ago—I am sure they regretted doing such a thing, don't you?"

_Oh, sweet relief._

Harry nodded quickly along with the Headmaster, and never felt more thankful for Albus Dumbledore. He was still slightly worried that Snape would murder him in his sleep, though. Well, either way, if that happened, he blamed Hermione. She had been the one who'd thought of making the blasted Polyjuice, after all, never mind if he and Ron had been a bad influence on her or not.

* * *

"Oy, you three. We've got a question for you."

Harry glanced up, startled, as the Fred and George slid into the seats in front of them. "What?" Hermione asked them cautiously.

The twins leaned forward and asked, with wide eyes, "Did you really mean what you said a few chapters ago?"

"About 'regretting' throwing fireworks in Snape's class, I mean."

"And trying to brew the Polyjuice Potion."

"Because if you did—"

"Then you're all idiots."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Nope, not really."

"'Course not."

"Well, yes."

Harry, Ron, and the twins stared.

"What?" Hermione hissed. "If you must know, I nearly got turned into a _cat_ for it! Can't I even be a little embarrassed?"

* * *

Minerva had _almost_ gotten herself under control, she _swore_ she had. But then she had caught Pomona's wide smile and Albus' laughing eyes, and then she was fighting mirth again. Severus was wearing his angriest scowl and Fudge looked completely bewildered, but that only made her want to laugh harder. And _yes_, she was aware some of the students were watching.

"Blimey!" she heard one student (she hazarded a guess and decided it was Roger Davies) say, sounding a little breathless. "I knew Lockhart had organized a club, but I didn't know Snape was the _assistant_ professor!"

It was too much. Shoulders shaking slightly with laughter, Minerva turned her face away from the students and grinned until her face nearly split, mouth open in silent laughter. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Pomona duck her head and snicker into her hand.

"Lockhart must've been mental," she heard another student, Katie Bell, mutter. "Can you imagine..."

"Absolutely stupid," roared George Weasley, and for the first time she did not mind the twins' loudness, if only because she longed to do the same. "Your mind is _wonderful_, Harry, I _love_ how you describe it..."

"Only Lockhart had been crazy enough to say stuff like that," added Fred Weasley gleefully. "'_You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him_'... God, what an idiot..."

Muscles now aching from trying not to smile, Minerva turned her face back to the Hall and said conversationally to Severus, who was seated beside her: "Dear Gilderoy _must_ have had a death wish, don't you think?"

The murderous look on his face threatened to make her burst into laughter all over again.

* * *

"Oh, dear," Hannah said in a hushed voice. "He didn't even _know_ he was speaking Parseltongue? But—it just seems so ridiculous..."

"A lot of stuff seemed ridiculous then," said Justin quietly.

_"Ohhh,_ God," said Ernie, whose face was brick-red with embarrassment. "I feel so guilty now. Somebody hit me or something."

"Gladly," said Justin sarcastically, cuffing Ernie on the head. "There, all good now?"

"I didn't really mean that, y'know?" muttered Ernie, rubbing his head.

* * *

"Oh, this is insane," said Marrieta Edgecombe. "So you were on your way back and saw Justin and Sir Nicholas Petrified all by coincidence?"

Harry Potter did not speak, but instead glared at Luna's fellow housemate so hard Marietta drew back slightly.

Luna frowned thoughtfully. "You really do have horrible luck, Harry."

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry dully. "That helps a lot."

Luna tilted her head. "I think it's the Nargles—they normally just muddle your head, but sometimes there _are_ rather odd side-effects."

The Ravenclaws scoffed, Harry Potter blinked, and Hermione Granger rolled her eyes, but Luna simply smiled.

* * *

"Unbelievable," said Minerva. She had tried to write it off as a desperate attempt, one that she had been sure would not work, and one that they would give up on. "Never seen anything so irresponsible—you actually did it—such a risky, rash—"

_And very, very impressive_, the more mischievous part of her whispered. She ignored it. "You—you actually _succeeded_ in making the Polyjuice Potion?"

Her three Gryffindors only glanced warily at each other, and she sank into her chair.

"Surely," said Umbridge sweetly, breaking her disbelief, "this must be punished? They have broken the rules; we have put it off for much too long, and this is most unethical—"

As though from a dream, Minerva noticed Harry Potter stiffen.

"You will do no such punishment," she said firmly, though she knew she would have near to no say in this, and that she herself (in another, cruder, more naive lifetime) might have done the same. "It was done a very long time ago—"

"He broke into our common room!" Draco Malfoy shouted, looking outraged. "And he impersonated Crabbe and Goyle!"

Minerva saw him glance to his father with the slightest subtlety before opening his mouth once more. _And there he goes again,_ she thought callously, as the Slytherins joined in, spurred by his protest; it was not until ten whole minutes later that she heard Dumbledore quell their words with another loophole, another excuse.

She knew they wouldn't last for much longer.

* * *

"You found a diary?" inquired Amelia Bones lightly, but she couldn't keep the doubt from her voice. To find anything in a place so rarely visited was—there was no denying it—highly suspicious. "What happened to it?"

The year the Chamber of Secrets had been opened was extremely blurry for Amelia. It wasn't like she'd been Obliviated or anything—it was that the Ministry had covered it up, covered it up so well that even she had limited information, and the best she had had before this were rumors.

Harry Potter fidgeted. "Well—I took it," he said. "It's... gone, now."

Amelia frowned, but even she knew better than to press him.

* * *

"Oooh," said George wickedly. "I'd forgotten all about that, it's nice to have a good reminder..."

Harry shook his head, but Fred added, "Yeah, now we remember..." And, with identical grins they began to sing in tandem despite Umbridge's protests and the book's words ringing out:

"_His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,  
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
I wish he was mine, he's really div—"_

"Shut up!" shouted Harry, his face red as the twins laughed, but even he was glad for the release of tension.

* * *

"No way," breathed Lee Jordan. "The diary—it writes back to you? That—that—"

"Goes far beyond what any normal notebook is meant to do," said Minerva, remembering the diary locked up in Albus' office, a hole burnt right through its middle. "Dark magic."

Displaying wisdom she had rarely seen in him, Lee Jordan fell silent.

* * *

There was a shriek.

"_Him_!" Pansy Parkinson rose. Hermione thought she looked about as sane as Umbridge. "That—that _oaf_ is the Heir of Slytherin? Him?"

Indignant, Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry had beaten her to it: "Hagrid's not an oaf and he's not the Heir."

"Oh, yes he is," said Zacharias Smith heatedly. "It says so in the book."

Hagrid was looking at his knees, his head bowed, and fury rose inside Hermione faster than a wave. "Oh, don't be such a _sheep_," she said. "How can you know Riddle was telling the truth? And anyway, do you really think Hagrid would be here if he ever did such a thing? Even if he was the Heir, then he's been here for a long time before the Chamber was opened for the second time, and he's never done anything!"

Smith snapped his mouth shut.

"But—who's... who's the Heir, then?" asked Cho Chang. "I don't think it's Hagrid, but it's definitely not Harry, so..."

She trailed off, along with the rest of the Hall. _Oh, wake up, all of you!_ Hermione thought.

"It's Voldemort."

Hermione groaned. "Harry!"

"What?"

"You realize," she said slowly, as the Hall began to chatter, abuzz with the news, "that it's not exactly _wise_ to claim that someone who currently doesn't _exist_ in the eyes of at least a third of Hogwarts and the Ministry is the _Heir of Slytherin_?"

Harry shrugged. "Was worth it," he said, and grinned widely as Ron laughed.

And now Hermione _did_ roll her eyes.

* * *

"_Hell_," Ginny heard Justin Finch-Fletchley say. "Someone _stole_ the diary?"

"It must've been the Heir, it's got to be!"

"But then—the Heir couldn't have been another Gryffindor, could it?"

"It's _got_ to be, or maybe he snuck into the tower, y'know, like when Sirius Black did three years ago..."

Ginny felt her face growing hot. She turned away, shame eating away at her insides, and was only slightly glad when no one—not Harry, not Hermione, not any of her brothers—sent her a pitying glance.

* * *

For about the hundredth time, Remus asked another question—only this time, there was a little more resignation in his tone. "Hermione was Petrified?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said. "But it wasn't so bad—at least for me, I mean, I don't really remember anything, just these huge eyes..."

"It actually convinced everyone that Harry wasn't the Heir," said Neville. "Harry would never want Hermione Petrified..."

Remus thought he might vomit. If the Petrification of a person was what it took for the students of Hogwarts from spreading unfound rumors, then it wasn't much to be proud of.

* * *

_THE BOY WHO LIVED'S LIFE RELIVED_

_Through various sources, we at the Daily Prophet have found that Harry Potter's full and detailed life is currently being read out by means of seven books in the Hogwarts Great hall, and has started since approximately two weeks ago. These books apparently came from High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge, who was the original person to enforce the reading. _

_These books have been said to reveal shocking secrets; one chapter has apparently revealed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is truly alive, if not alive and powerful, ever since Potter's first year. Why this has been kept quiet until now is unknown, though the most evident answer would be that Minister Fudge and Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore have been covering it up. _

_There have been mixed reactions to the information; Edma Edgecombe, a Ministry official, says: "It's obviously a ploy for attention. I think Potter's just digging himself a deeper grave. I don't trust him, and I don't think I ever will."_

_Head of the Department f Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, on the other hand, feels oddly sympathetic for Potter: "It's an outrageous breach of privacy. I have seen Potter during these readings, and it's clear he doesn't like it."_

_As of yet, Hogwarts (accompanied by former Hogwarts professor Remus Lupin, Minister Fudge and DMLE Head Amelia Bones) is reading about Potter's second year, and while the books on Potter's life have been rumored to lead into the future, whether it is true or not is unidentified._

* * *

"Idiots," Sirius snarled, gripping the page with the article tightly and tearing it into pieces. "As if we haven't enough bad news—absolute—dung—"

"Sirius," Remus said tiredly, and Sirius took a long, deep breath, remembering he wasn't alone. With a flourish of his wand, Sirius threw the torn Daily Prophet into the air and set it aflame.

"It's rubbish, Remus," Sirius said furiously; he said a lot of things furiously these days. "It's _bullshit_, what they're writing about Harry—I mean, come _on_. They're _asking_ why nobody said Voldemort was alive in Harry's first year? They've actually got the bloody _nerve_?"

"I think I've gotten that part," said Remus. "And I also think you ought to be looking for Harry instead of sulking in an empty classroom. If you're this upset, imagine how Harry must be."

Sirius flushed slightly. "Yeah, well—I suppose—oh, why don't _you_ go get him, then, if _you're_ so smart?" he said, angry still.

Remus just raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression _you_ were his godfather, Sirius. And I won't be with you today—it's the full moon. I'll be back in a chapter or two. You'll have to tell me all about Aragog though, I heard you'll be reading about it today."

Only then did Sirius realize how peaky Remus looked—there were bags under his eyes, and he was thinner than usual. "Oh—right—full moon—but I'll go with you, Remus, you can't face that alone—"

Remus shook his head. "No you won't. Harry needs you right now. It's not like I'll die, Sirius, I've lived with it alone for fourteen years."

As he left, Sirius shot a thankful smile at his retreating back, and hoped his friend understood anyway.

* * *

Fred Weasley had never been guilty in his life.

Well, actually he had. He'd been guilty tons of times. _That_ was all in a prankster's day's work. But he'd never actually _felt_ guilty. Until now.

Of course, he'd thought it was funny before. Turning his brother's teddy bear into some sort of tarantula had been kind of impressive, he'd thought. It had actually been one of his earliest pranks, and he and George teased Ron about it to this day. And it _was_ funny—at least, until you learned that same brother had had to go into the Forest to search especially _for_ those spiders.

_What had they found?_ Fred wondered, and yet all the same, he didn't want to know. Ever.

"Oh, bugger," he cursed softly. "Sorry, Ron."

Ron just shrugged it off, not bothering to reply, but Fred got the feeling he understood.

* * *

"Impossible," said Fudge immediately, though he was wonderfully pale. "Why, of course not—the acromantula were _obviously_ the monster of Slytherin! Of course they were!"

"They've been there for what, then? Fifty years?" demanded Professor Sprout. "They've been there for nearly half a _century_—so has Hagrid—and they've never harmed anyone! And how exactly do you expect an acromantula to _Petrify_ someone?"

"Hagrid must have been guilty of the crime through another way—"

"That," said Professor McGongall in her frostiest tone, "Or you have sent another innocent man to Azkaban, however short the time, however long ago it may be."

"But—but—" stammered Fudge, and Harry scowled, wishing they would stop talking as though Hagrid (who still sat in his too-small seat, face beet-red) was not there._ Just own up, Fudge_, he thought. "Now, Minerva, don't you make assumptions—"

"It can't be an assumption if it's the truth," snapped McGonagall, and Harry felt a great surge of pride for the Head of House.

"Oh, but of course it isn't true," said Umbridge, her voice like poisoned honey. "Hagrid here was proven guilty—"

"Never proven guilty," said Sprout. "Just accused because all the evidence _seemed_ to be pointing at him."

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then Dumbledore said: "I believe we owe Hagrid here a great apology."

"Why—how can you say—"

"Indeed we do," said Madam Bones with an air of finality, and Harry knew the matter was settled at last. "I shall have to go back to the Ministry, then, and change Rubeus Hagrid's records. He shall have a trial"—she spared Hagrid a glance—"but it will be more of a formality. He should be allowed to use magic freely again in time."

The smile that bloomed over Hagrid's face was very small, but his eyes spoke of hope.

* * *

"No!" said Hagrid in a loud, horrified whisper, and it would have been funny if Sirius hadn't felt so very horrified himself. He whimpered, letting Padfoot take over his mind for the smallest second, paws over his eyes and tail between his legs. "I though'—Aragog wouldn' do tha', I know 'im—"

"Hagrid, we were fine, don't worry," said Harry gently, and Sirius suppressed the urge to transform back into a human and shake him by the shoulders, because being surrounded by hundreds of murdering spiders that wanted you for dinner hardly classified as 'fine'.

"No, yeh weren'!" said Hagrid, as though an arachnid's betrayal was the worst thing in the world. "Yeh—he was about ter _kill_ yeh—an' it was stupid ter make yeh go in the firs' place, I'm sorry, I—"

"Hagrid, it doesn't matter anymore," said Harry firmly, "we got out of there fine, and if you hadn't made us we'd never have figured anything out. There's nothing to forgive."

It wasn't Hagrid's fault, and Sirius knew he had no right to blame him when he had floundered so many times himself—but where Harry let everything slide away without so much as a second thought, for Sirius, there was still a considerably huge amount to forgive.

* * *

Remus sighed. The letter Sirius had sent was very vague and very alarming.

* * *

_RL,_

_You won't believe this—I've found out who Aragog is, and he's a bloody acromantula! Arthur's car saved them, but do you have any idea how dangerous those things are? Of course you do—but Harry and Ron faced them when they were in second year, and they'd really have been dead if it weren't for the Ford Anglia! I'm sending this by phoenix fire because it's going to be too difficult to put this into code, and the toad's definitely watching the mail. So sorry if Fawkes sends your robes on fire, but I think I really need a calming draught right now!_

—_SB_

* * *

He kept rereading it, trying to make sense of the handwriting, sloppy even for Sirius' standards. It had to have been bad for Sirius to be shaken. Groaning, Remus shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair; it had only been a day after the full moon, but he knew that by tomorrow, he already be right back at Hogwarts for the reading.

* * *

Alicia Spinnet watched, slack-jawed, as the entire story was laid out before them. All the evidence was there, right in front of her, and yet she had never noticed: Moaning Myrtle—she had seen her floating about the castle, more than once, wailing about her death, yet she had never thought to ask; and she'd heard Hagrid wail too, this time about his dead roosters; the spiders, huddling together in a way that was unreasonable—

_There had been a basilisk in that Chamber._

There had been rumors, of course, there had always been rumors, but therein lay the problem: Here at Hogwarts, there were so many little whispers that you would never know which tale was too tall and which tale spoke of truth.

* * *

"Why on earth did you do that? You could just as easily have come to us or something!" said Pomona Sprout. Her jaw was open, her eyes bulging, and even she knew it. "But why _Lockhart_? Why in Merlin's name did you tell _him_ instead? He's utterly useless," she added under her breath.

"I still don't know, Professor," said Harry Potter; he looked rather annoyed with himself. "For some reason we actually believed he'd try to save Ginny."

"Yeah, we must've had a fit of madness or something," scowled Ron Weasley, who seemed downright furious. "Bloody fraud."

"'Fraud'?" inquired Amelia Bones. "While I admit the man is nothing remarkable, he was still a respectable man, and that accident—"

"Oh, just read on," said Weasley irritably, and Pomona opened her mouth to tell him off for his discourtesy, but as the youngest Weasley son glanced at his only sister with a look so full of relief she realized she would not have the heart to tell _anyone_ off. As the reading came into focus again, though, Pomona heard him mutter quite distinctly: "Accident, my arse."

* * *

"I can't believe it! So Lockhart never really did all those?"

"That's _horrible_..."

"It's _scandalous_! My whole life is a _lie_!"

_Well, that's one benefit of the books_, Harry thought. _Lockhart's busted._

* * *

Susan Bones turned despairing eyes to the DA's leader. "You had to go alone?"

"We were out of time," Harry sighed; Susan supposed it must be a little tiring to have to answer so many questions. "It got Lockhart out of the way, at least."

"I don't regret it!" snarled George Weasley. "He tried to Obliviate you!"

"Where is the git now, anyway?" scowled his twin.

"He lost his memory," said Daphne Greengrass, looking suddenly disconcerted. "The last I heard, he's in St. Mungo's—permanent damage. Everyone was wondering how."

* * *

"Tom Riddle?" said Dean in a high, squeaky voice that would've embarrassed him if he wasn't too creeped out to notice. "_But he should be dead by now—"_

"But—you said it was You-Know-Who!" said Seamus, pointing one accusing finger at Harry.

"It was," Harry said.

When their faces remained utterly nonplussed, Harry rolled his eyes. "You can't possibly think that Voldemort's parents actually _named_ him Lord Voldemort, do you? Tom Riddle is Voldemort's real name."

After flinching exactly three times at the brazen use of the Dark wizard's name, Dean's mouth fell open in understanding.

* * *

Percy felt weak at the knees. All around him were exclamations of indignation and hisses of slander; Fudge was in another debate with Dumbledore, and Umbridge was shrieking something shrill; Lucius Malfoy's lips were curled upward in a sneer. But all the same he could hear nothing but the buzzing in his own mind.

Ginny had been possessed, had been the one to open the Chamber in her first year, because she had found that diary... But he'd had an inkling of all that, of course, had speculated as much... he'd expected this.

So why did it hurt so much to hear?

"_You_ did it?" a voice said cuttingly, and Percy saw the speaker was Romilda Vane, a snooty girl of Gryffindor who had never much impressed Percy. "Come on; it's utterly scandalous—so the heir of Slytherin is still a _Gryffindor_?"

She was glaring daggers at Ginny, who sat stiffly in her seat, and out of mere instinct Percy found himself thinking _Shut up, shut up, she's not the Heir, stupid, she was possessed, haven't you been listening? _But he didn't dare say it, and soon it was Harry who put Vane back in her place.

As the Hall silenced and the book began again, Percy looked down at his lap. In the back of his mind, a voice told him that liars didn't usually risk their lives and go down into Chambers just to save best mates' sisters they barely knew.

Clenching his fists tightly, Percy ignored it.

* * *

Lisa Turpin knew this wasn't the time, but she snorted.

"You-Know-Who's name came from an _anagram?"_ she asked. "Where would anyone get an idea like that?"

"Don't ask where Dark Lords find their imagination," sniggered Anthony. "I wonder how many times he had to think of an anagram that would fit."

Lisa grinned. This wasn't like her, but perhaps these books had made her a little reckless. "Probably had to go through names like... I don't know, Mild Doormat Lover or something—"

"Lisa!" said Anthony, shocked, but he was smirking.

* * *

"Are you mad?" Ron mumbled. He turned around to stare at his best mate. "So, the Darkest wizard of all time has your wand and a Basilisk, someone you know is near death, you're completely defenceless, and so you goad the Dark wizard into trying to kill you?"

Harry shot him a mock-offended look, then shook his head ruefully. "I thought I was going to die anyway," he said. "Might as well die fighting."

Sirius whimpered; Ron had to fight not to do the same.

* * *

Ginny let out an embarrassing squeak. Her entire body was quaking; she didn't seem to notice. "You—you were hurt—the basilisk—you could've died—"

"Basilisk venom," Professor Lupin said softly, "can get into the bloodstream in as fast as ten seconds."

Ginny's breath hitched a little faster.

"Do tell us, Harry," said Dumbledore (though with growing annoyance Ginny saw that Harry was one again right in saying that the Headmaster would not look him in the eye), "why you neglected to tell us that in recounting the story?"

The book was still going on, but no one was listening now. Harry looked a little resentful as the entire Hall's attention turned to him not for the first time, but all the same a faint blush alighted in his cheeks. "I was fine, sir," he muttered. "Fawkes was there."

"No you weren't!" Ginny said, almost shouting. "You weren't fine at all!" An irrational rage was taking over her; she wished Harry had never saved her in the first place. It was better than this, surely; than knowing that Harry could've died and it was all her fault and having to live with that.

"Of course I was fine," said Harry, trying for a cheerful smile. Ginny glared at him. "Well, I will be," he compromised. A small consolation, Ginny decided, but right now she knew it was likely all she would get. He nodded at the book. "Fawkes heals me, of course. And then after that I destroy it."

_I destroy it_. He made it sound so simple, as though that little black book had never taken her under its control for an entire school year; and despite it all relief seemed to flood her.

* * *

Remus swallowed. "That's it, then?" he asked, quietly. "That's the end of the chapter?"

Albus nodded. "Indeed. Perhaps," he said, "we should hold off the last chapter? There is another one, but I daresay we should put it off for tomorrow."

There were appreciative murmurs all over the Hall; Remus couldn't blame them. He'd never thought reading books could be so exhausting since he'd seen the Monster Book of Monsters.

He glanced at Padfoot and saw the dog staring intently at Harry's arm as though frightened it would fall off any second. It wasn't hard to tell why. Arms getting broken weren't too bad; arms that had the bones Vanished by idiots who didn't know what they were doing was pushing it, but still manageable; arms getting pierced by basilisk fangs, though... that was something different altogether.

A day off it was, then.

* * *

"So, Harry, what d'you say to a game of chess?" Ron asked. "I mean, we don't exactly get breaks often, do we? Might as well savor it."

"Uh—not this time, Ron," Harry said quickly. "You'll beat me in five minutes, anyway."

Normally he wouldn't have protested, but he had just realized something: he had not seen Ginny Weasley all day. And for Harry, that was quite a worrying thought.

"Er—I think I'll go out a bit, take a walk or something." He bolted out the portrait hole before Ron could reply.

* * *

He couldn't find her. He'd tried the Quidditch pitch, the Owlery, the Great Hall, the hospital wing, even random classrooms, random corridors—but Ginny was missing.

His feet tired but his resolve ever stronger, he tried the library; and to his great surprise, a red-headed girl sitting forlornly on the farthest table, her back to him. A book was open before her, but she was staring right ahead, as though seeing something beyond the library's walls.

"Ginny?" he asked quietly.

She jumped. "Wha—oh. Hi there, Harry," she said, her voice much higher than usual. "What's up? I was just, uh, studying, you know, to get away from it all, just for a bit—"

Ginny sounded so wrecked, so very simply _wrecked,_ that it worried Harry; but at the same time, he could place no blame on her. He felt a sudden urge to just _kiss_ her, right now, and tried to restrain himself. _Ron'll kill you..._

"Ginny," he repeated, relishing instead in simply saying her name, and Ginny fell silent. "Ginny, you're rambling."

Ginny swallowed. She turned to look at him, and he saw that while her face was dry, her eyes were bright with tears, something Harry had not seen since his second year.

Harry bit his lip, sat beside her, and—dare he? _dare_ he?—put a hand on her shoulder, feeling somewhat relieved when she did not recoil.

"I don't know why I keep torturing myself with this," Ginny said, rubbing her eyes. "I don't want to think about it, about the Chamber, I just do, and it might've actually been okay, except now I know that—that you almost got _killed_ because of _me_—and it's all my _stupid fault_—so now all that's happened just came back, and—every time I shut my eyes—" She took a long, deep breath, shaking her head.

Harry was silent, not knowing what else to say; he had never been good with girls. And he had never gone through what Ginny did, never knew what it had been like for her.

He could very well imagine, though.

"It's over," he said quietly. "That Riddle is dead. He won't get to you anymore."

"I _know_ that," she said. "But I just keep thinking—what if I'm not—me? What if there's still a—a part of Riddle that was left inside me, or—"

"No," said Harry, shocked. "No, Ginny, that's not true, you know it's not."

Ginny sighed. "No, I—I suppose. But..."

"Ginny, if Riddle was possessing you, you would know! And—well, either way, you're—you're nothing like him. You're the _opposite_ of Riddle, Ginny!"

He found her hand and squeezed it tightly, thankful when she pressed back. "I—thanks, Harry."

* * *

"So," said Terry Boot heavily the next day. "The last chapter, eh?"

"It sounds much too gloomy when you say it like that," said Anthony Goldstein. "It can't be too bad, though—it's probably more like an epilogue of sorts."

From beside him, Lisa Turpin snorted. "Hopefully," she said, but she sounded more than a little disbelieving.

* * *

A roar of outrage came from the staff table; Sirius was barking louder than ever; the students gasped, some merely turning to each other, others making to stand up; Amelia Bones was a step ahead of them, standing with surprising speed—but Malfoy was already heading for the great double doors, dark robes billowing behind him.

A wordless shout came from Harry's lips; he sprung to his feet, wand drawn. Suddenly it did not matter how large a toll these readings were giving him—he was not going to let Lucius Malfoy escape; no. Not this time.

Malfoy whirled around and gave Harry one impassive, belittling glance before disappearing right there and then. A mixture of shrieks and gasps came from the crowd; they knew (well, _some_ of them, at least) that you could not Disapparate within Hogwarts—

But Lupin, who had stood up the same instance Harry had, did not seem daunted; he pointed his wand at the double doors and said a spell that Harry did not hear, but as the doors snapped shut he saw the bigger picture: Malfoy was simply lurking out of sight, with a Disillusionment charm—

McGonagall had shot to her feet as well; "_Finite Incantatem_!" she shouted, her words an angry snarl, though her spell didn't seem to be aimed at anything in particular.

Apparently, though, McGonagall's spell found its mark; Malfoy whirled around, visible again, his face now contorted with fury.

"_Stupefy_!" said Harry, Hermione and Ron together—and suddenly, many others, (_others who belonged to Dumbledore's Army,_ Harry thought with a rush of fierce pride) stood up, wands out, on guard, because Harry's spell had been like a signal to them, and because they saw that even as Malfoy blocked all three spells, his shield broke into pieces with it—

Lupin jabbed his wand high, and numerous cords sprang from his wand and leaped toward Malfoy, who, the sneer still on his face, turned it to pieces with a single "_Diffindo_!"

A Body Binder from Fred shot up over Harry's head, but it was a failed attempt: Malfoy blocked it, again, looking horribly at ease—but Harry just _knew_ he was getting overwhelmed, he could see it in those pale eyes—and yet now his wand was raised, a cruel look on his features; Harry realized what was going to happen a split-second before it did.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

A single, sickening green streak shot from Lucius Malfoy's wand—and bolted straight for Fred Weasley.

"_No_!" bellowed Harry—but Fred only stepped aside, half-pulled out of harm by his twin; the Unforgivable crashed into a wall, burning a hole into it, and Harry let out a breath of relief. In another blink both twins countered Malfoy with a hex so fast he deflected it only just in time.

And that did it. There was uproar—uproar that mostly came from the DA, though Harry had never noticed it at the time—and suddenly spells shot from all directions, all of them with a single target.

About a dozen spells might've hit him, maybe more, maybe just a single one; Harry didn't know, but the next thing he knew, Lucius Malfoy was unconscious on the floor. Even his wand was gone—Harry had seen it whiz through the air—and he realized that the caster of that spell had been Neville, who had it clasped in his hand and was staring at the thing as though dumbstruck.

Harry caught Neville's eye. His classmate smiled weakly at him and said:

"Guess you were right when you said _Expelliarmus_ was important."

Harry beamed.

* * *

Lee gave a cry of glee. So maybe deciding to finish this chapter wasn't a bad idea after all. "You freed that elf? Right under Malfoy's nose?"

"Mmm," said Harry in a lazy imitation of Draco Malfoy's drawl. "It was immensely satisfying."

The Gryffindor table howled with laughter.

* * *

"He WHAT?" roared Arthur. Molly sat in the chair beside him, looking horribly shaken. Remus and Sirius watched them warily.

They stood in the kitchen of the Burrow, having finished with the second book. Arthur and Molly, who had not been able to be present during the reading, had just been caught up to date.

The thing was, only a few words seemed to register: _Lucius Malfoy_,_ diary_, and _Ginny Weasley_.

"How dare he," Molly whispered, not even having the strength to yell. It was dangerous enough when Molly yelled—yelled and yelled in all her fury while Arthur remained unbelievably silent—but whenever the roles were reversed, you would know to fear for your life. "Doesn't—doesn't he know what he's _done_?"

"Oh, Lucius _definitely_ dares, Molly," snarled Arthur, "And he knows, of _course_ he knows!" He stood up, slamming his hands down on the table, uncharacteristic anger twisting his face. "I OUGHT TO FIND HIM, GIVE HIM WHAT HE DESERVES—"

"Arthur!" Remus shouted. "You've got to calm down—Lucius will be facing a trial at the Ministry, and with heavy security! Malfoy _will_ get what he deserves, just you wait! You can't go barging in and kill him, Arthur!"

"Yeah," Sirius said quietly. "Merlin knows it didn't do me any good."

It was Sirius' statement, more than anything, that made Arthur gather his nerves and collapse back in his chair, struggling to regain his composure. Fleetingly, he thought of his only daughter, Ginny, how much she had suffered in her first year—and how it was all Malfoy's fault...

He grasped Molly's hand tightly, and was relieved when she squeezed back. He let his anger dissipate in her fierce gaze, but still there was that roaring fire inside him, that indignation for what had been done to his family—

What he would have given to have Lucius Malfoy here, _now_, and be able to hex him into oblivion.

* * *

"The pieces do not quite fit," said Amelia Bones. "You claim not to have done Ginny Weasley any harm, and yet the book retelling Harry Potter's second year implies heavily that you were the one to give her the diary—intentionally and willingly, I might add."

"Potter's deluded mind believes me guilty, of course it is implied!" snarled Lucius. "Or perhaps the books were never telling the truth from the start!"

"A charm was placed upon those books to ensure only the utmost truth," Amelia said, her voice quite cold. "It was performed by our best Aurors. If that is inadequate for you, Mr. Malfoy, then I suggest you try it for yourself."

"Fine." Lucius sneered. "What do you propose, then?" Cornelius frowned. He had absolutely nothing against the man, but he certainly wasn't acting innocent.

"I propose a brief and willing interrogation under Veritaserum," Amelia said smoothly.

Lucius Malfoy went very pale.

Cornelius narrowed his eyes. He trusted Lucius a lot, but he remembered all the trouble the Chamber of Secrets had caused that year. If Lucius truly had been the one to give the Weasley girl the diary... well, an eye for an eye, then.

* * *

"You're serious?" Ron asked. "Lucius Malfoy's in Azkaban?"

"Yes, Ron!" Remus said urgently. "His bribery wasn't enough to fool the Wizengamot this time. Amelia insisted on Veritaserum, and there's nothing that can beat that short of being immune to it. You three deserve to know—they're covering it up as much as they can, but I can't imagine it being a secret for long. The Dementors are unreliable, but Dumbledore's managed to convince Fudge to settle a few Aurors around the place. Merlin knows Lucius used to be high up in the Ministry..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, hardly daring to believe it. No wonder Draco Malfoy had been in a foul mood.

* * *

**AN:** _Wow. Obscenely long chapter. Hope I can be a bit faster on the next, or it'll also be an obscenely long wait. *winces* _

_Also, I got my first flame! I'm so excited! *snorts* That was actually from a friend of mine who likes to troll, but never mind._

_Sorry if it took so long, but to be fair exams are coming up and I'm supposed to be working on a project-scrapbook-thingy (honestly, what kind of project is about making a scrapbook? teachers these days...) so you are obscenely lucky I found the time!_

**EDIT:**_ I ALSO do not own the anagram "Mild Doormat Lover"! Got that somewhere off the net..._


	4. The Third Tale

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot._

* * *

**Truth and Lies**

_The Third Tale_

* * *

"Wotcher, Remus!"

"Tonks?" Remus asked. "Hello—why are you here?"

"Dumbledore sent me, of course." Tonks grinned, though she lowered her voice slightly. "Snape says You-Know-Who's got a new spy in Hogwarts, and we don't know who. Best to be sure, Dumbledore said. We'll have to keep on the lookout. He—he says there might be an attack."

"On Hogwarts?" Remus was astonished. "Could Voldemort be that foolish?"

Tonks shrugged. "Who knows? But once we get to fourth year, everyone's got to believe Harry, and if You-Know-Who's going to have to be in the open, why not announce it with a visit to the school?" she asked sardonically. "Oh—wotcher, there, Snuffles!" She grinned, scratching the large black dog—first cousin once removed, really—between the ears.

"Have you seen Professor Sprout?" Tonks asked brightly. "Haven't seen her in a while—she's brilliant, she is!"

"Oh—she's in the Hall already, I think," said Remus, slightly surprised by the abrupt change of subject; but then, this was Tonks. "Go on, then."

"Alright," she said, and bounded into the Hall, nearly knocking over a suit of armour in her hurry. Remus shook his head in exasperation, but he couldn't help but grin as well as he followed her. Nymphadora Tonks (who would hex him if he called her such a thing, even if it was only in his head) had an absolutely contagious smile.

* * *

"Hagrid! Hagrid!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into the small hut. Their faces were beaming, and Hagrid felt his own heart warm. _Bless them_, he thought, _bless them, great kids._

"We heard—we heard—" Hermione said breathlessly.

"Lupin told us—is that right?" shouted Harry. "You've been cleared?"

The thought brought another grin to Hagrid's face, and he looked out the window. "So I 'ave," he said slowly, trying (in vain) to reel in his excitement.

"That's brilliant!" roared Ron as Harry hugged him—he barely got above Hagrid's stomach, but Hagrid got the idea—and Hermione squealed; and their joy for him alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. "Not surprising at all, really, but with people like Fudge running 'round the place..."

"Ah, well," he said, sniffing slightly and swiping at his eyes, "be nice ter be able ter use magic freely again."

* * *

Harry stared between the two last true Marauders. Lupin's face was twisted in a scowl that was more like the wolf than the professor, and Snuffles was growling, hackles raised, looking quite like he would like nothing more than to rip the book into shreds and throw the pieces into the Gryffindor common room fireplace.

He sighed. And this was only the _introduction_ of Aunt Marge.

As the book prattled on, the anger did not fade off their faces, and Harry knew that once Aunt Marge started insulting his parents, they would have a similar reaction as he had had; and no matter how satisfying it would be to scare Umbridge and the rest of the school out of their wits, it wouldn't exactly be prudent to have Sirius transform back and Lupin to start screaming profanities at a Muggle woman.

When the Aunt Marge of the book began asking Harry with all the casualness of simple conversation whether Harry was being beaten at a non-existent school, Harry stood up. He couldn't help but notice that Lupin and Padfoot both seemed ready to explode.

"Come on," he said loudly, and several faces turned to look at him. "Er—Professor Lupin, I _really_ need to talk to you. In private."

Lupin frowned, turning to look at him quickly, as though coming out of a daze. Padfoot's ears jerked up. Amazing, how one could look murderous even in dog form.

"Excuse me?" said Umbridge immediately. "You were not given permission to—"

"May we _please_ go now, then, Professor?" Harry said abruptly, too fed up to fight another verbal war with the woman. "Honestly, _ma'am_, it's only for _one_ chapter."

Umbridge opened her mouth wide to inevitably decline, but McGonagall interjected: "You may go, Potter."

Harry didn't wait another word. He dragged Lupin and Padfoot out of the Hall, knowing every eye of the Hall was trained upon them and not caring one bit.

* * *

"What now?" Sirius demanded as Harry pulled him into an empty classroom. "C'mon, I wanted to hear about that..."

"You don't," Harry said shortly. "Trust me."

"Why?" Remus asked, and Sirius knew he was just as worried as he. "What happened with your aunt? Does she... Is she... Did they ever beat you, Harry?"

"What?" Harry said, his stubborn stance broken; he looked a little unnerved by Remus's words. "No, of course not... I mean, well, I—I s'pose I got pushed around a bit, but it's definitely not what you're thinking."

Sirius wondered how much of it was a lie. "So why did you drag us off here, then?" he asked instead.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Aunt Marge... When she visited, she tried a different tack to get to me—she kept insulting my parents. What you heard—that was just the start of it. I didn't think it would be very prudent if the two of you ran to the front of the Hall and started ripping the book to pieces..."

"Just the start? What we heard was _just the start_?" Remus snarled. If there was one thing that got him angry, Sirius knew, it was when people spoke badly of his friends.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, well, she got to me too, if it's any consolation."

"What did you do to her in return?"

"What?"

"What did you do to her in return?" Sirius repeated. "Don't tell me you let her get away with this!"

Harry blinked, and then a small, superior grin emerged on his face. "I blew her up," he said. "Like a balloon. All by accident, of course, but that's a minor detail..."

Remus stared at Harry with his mouth open. Sirius burst out laughing.

"I s'pose that was what all the noise I heard from Number Four was about," he said with a grin. "That is _it_—I am not missing this wonderfully executed prank of yours—I'll behave as much as you want me to as long as I get to hear _that_!"

He had turned back into Padfoot and was already shooting down the corridors before the other two had even started to walk.

* * *

"You were seeing Grims everywhere before the school year _even started_? But that means—"

"It wasn't a Grim," said Hermione tightly. "It's just a dog, nothing to worry about."

* * *

"Oooh," said Hannah Abbott. "You rode the Knight Bus? I've never ridden that before—"

"Lucky you," muttered Harry.

"Uh, sorry—what?" said Hannah, bewildered.

"Harry's experience with the Knight Bus wasn't very..." Ginny giggled, still searching for the right word, "pleasant."

"Well, of course it wasn't!" said Harry, flushing and laughing nervously. "I thought I was going to get expelled, I was getting knocked around everywhere, and—how did you know I didn't like the Knight Bus, anyway?"

Ron snorted. "We've ridden it before. Doesn't take a genius to know it's worse than the Floo."

"Oh, come on," whined Fred. "It was fun."

"Yeah, 'cause you decided to redecorate the thing with flowers!"

George sniggered. "Ah, memories..."

Neville, meanwhile, was concerned with other matters. "How come you pretended to be _me_?"

Harry bit his lip. "Er—moving on, I think..."

* * *

By dinner, Harry noticed that Sirius was no longer by his side. He frowned. "Professor," he whispered (he still wasn't ready to call his former teacher by his first name), "have you seen—"

Lupin smiled at him sadly. "He said he'd like to take a break," he said. "And he said he'd see you. I don't think he found the last chapter very interesting, what with you thinking back to when you first met him as Padfoot so often and the rat being mentioned so extensively..."

Harry's stomach plummeted. Since the start of the book he'd wondered how Sirius would take to being spoken ill of every other page, and now he realized that it probably wasn't very easy to overlook; being branded a murderer when you weren't one, and being reminded of that very fact, had to have been disheartening no matter how badly you tried to come to terms with it.

"Right," he said somewhat distractedly. "I'll see him."

* * *

"Hey," said Geoffrey Hooper in a low voice, "d'you reckon... d'you reckon Potter's not all bad?"

His voice was casual and his posture suggested disinterest, but Natalie McDonald knew better. "You think?" she said, not willing to guide him in his blindness. If he was going to turn to Harry's side _only_ now, she wouldn't be helping him. She'd tried to since the start of the year, and she'd had quite enough of his stupidity.

"Oh, what are you snapping at me for?" asked Geoffrey grumpily. "I was just asking."

"Well, you should know how I'll answer by now," she said shortly. She glanced down her table, but Harry wasn't there. She supposed she'd be pretty sickened too, if she'd had to come back to school surrounded by slander and rumors. Grimacing, she turned back to her best friend.

Geoffrey was gaping at her. "I—"

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Geoffrey threw his hands up. "Oh, all right then—you win! Potter wasn't a liar, I believe everything he says, I believe You-Know-Who's back and all that stuff!"

Natalie gave a satisfied smile. "Good enough."

* * *

"Snuffles?" Harry asked. But the classroom was empty.

"That doesn't make sense," he mumbled to himself. If the map was right—and the map had to be—then Sirius was supposed to be standing right... about...

"Ow!" Sirius jumped up, the Disillusionment charm wearing off. "That was my foot!"

_Here_.

"Sorry," said Harry, but he was grinning. Quickly, he checked the door and made sure no one would barge in on them. "How come you left?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ah, well," Sirius shrugged. "To be honest, I don't think I could bear to hear about myself any longer. Bad memories, you know..."

"I know," said Harry. He had had enough experience with having people talk about him when they thought he couldn't hear to know what Sirius was feeling, at least a little bit. "Sorry—I know I was—well, in the book, I mean... I was thinking... all sorts of things..."

"Don't apologize," Sirius said firmly. "Most people are only curious, anyway; you can't really blame them. But enough of me. Are you still holding up, eh?"

"I'll be fine," Harry said dismissively, though when Sirius frowned he added, "Better than you, anyway. I'll be... alright. To be truthful, this is the best book by far. Maybe I'm getting used to it."

"You shouldn't have to," said Sirius. He smiled a little bitterly. "You know, I reckon you think I'm some sort of coward, running away from those books—"

"No, you're not!" said Harry indignantly. "I'd love to throw those things in the Forbidden Forest too, but I don't think Umbridge'll let me."

"Yeah, probably not." Sirius grinned. "I'll be leaving for a while, alright? I've nothing to do here if I'm not going to be at the reading, anyway. But I'll keep in touch with the mirror, and I'll be back for my cleared name." He winked.

Harry laughed. Sirius made the process of proving his innocence look as if it would be so simple, so possible, so_ easy. But then_, he thought, _Sirius hadn't been the first person to escape Azkaban for nothing._

* * *

He thought, again, of the long, winding corridor... The door would be right in front of him... He only needed to get in... But he needed to dispose of the foolish Order's guards, first, and the Ministry's feeble defenses... They should be easy enough... He was so close, so close! If only—

"Harry!"

With a gulp of air, Harry jolted awake. Ron was shaking him. "Wha—"

"You were talking in your sleep again," said Ron grimly. "Was it that corridor?"

"Yeah," said Harry shortly. "I... thanks for waking me up." His curiosity of why Voldemort so wanted with that place and what was behind that door had not quite disappeared, but he knew Ron meant only well. He leaned back again into his pillows, but though the sun was not even out yet he doubted he could fall back asleep again.

"You should tell someone about this, you know. Dumbledore—"

"I told you, Ron, he already knows about it—"

"McGonagall, then."

Harry looked at Ron. It was unnerving to see him so serious. Wasn't the nagging Hermione's job? But all he said was, "I don't want to worry her."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Lupin, then. It's not like _he'll _go berserk."

Harry opened his mouth but then froze, realizing he had no excuse. He groaned. "Fine, then. But I'll tell him later. At the reading."

* * *

Although there were quite a few snickers scattered all over the Hall (with a good part of it focused on the Slytherin table), the majority of Hogwarts was strangely silent.

"Harry?" mumbled Cho; she was staring at Harry as though afraid of him. "What—what memory was that? The screaming woman?"

Harry stared at the table, tracing out a groove in the woodwork with his eyes. He did not feel particularly like answering, but he said, in as controlled a voice as he could muster, "That was Mum."

And as though suddenly woken up by his words, the Hall broke out into small, feeble whispers; Harry felt stares of pity upon his back, and tried his best to ignore them. It would end with a hex otherwise.

* * *

"That's impossible," murmured Marietta. She turned to Cho. "How did she do that? She can't attend two classes at once! She was with Weasley and Potter all day, but then she says she's already gone to Arithmancy! How did she do that?" she demanded.

Cho groaned. "I already told you, Marietta, I don't know," she said. "Just wait it out. I'm sure it'll be explained at the end of the book."

Marietta frowned. Didn't she realize how big a matter this was? "I don't like it," she said. "Something doesn't fit. It's just not possible."

"Nothing's impossible," said Luna dreamily from her side. The loony girl was looking straight at the book with what seemed like mild interest. Marietta stared at her, disgusted, but Luna said nothing.

* * *

"Trust Potter to be the only one reckless enough," Minerva muttered under her breath.

"Oh, but that's impressive!" laughed Wilhelmina beside her. "Hippogriffs are a fine judge of character, and Buckbeak doesn't seem to be a patient one..."

Minerva blinked. "Yes, well," she said quietly, a smirk now starting to curl around her mouth, "I suppose that explains what happened to Mr. Malfoy."

Wilhelmina snorted. It was biased, she knew, but Minerva remembered all the worry the Malfoys had given Hagrid that year; Draco deserved it if nothing else.

* * *

"Five points _to_ Gryffindor," called Professor McGonagall out unexpectedly. Ron jumped, coming out of his stupor.

"What?" Snape said abruptly, twisting in his seat. "And why would you—"

"The points you _took_ was uncalled for, Severus," McGonagall said mildly. Ron grinned. "As are much of the points you take. It's time _some_ of them were given back."

"It was two years ago!"

"All the same."

Snape was glaring at Gryffindor's Head of House, and Ron sniggered. "Ah, justice," he sighed contentedly.

* * *

"_Him_? He's going to teach Harry? _That_ git, teach _my_ godson?"

"If you truthfully expect me to agree in actually _aiding_ that mediocre boy to _Occlude_ you are sorely, sorely mistaken—"

"Hear me out," said Albus, raising his voice by just a fraction, and immediately both wizards fell silent. "It is only reasonable," he began again. "Severus is the best choice to teach Harry; he is one of the best Occlumens the world has seen—"

"Yeah," said Sirius angrily, "but on the other hand he's also one of the worst _teachers_ the world's ever seen!"

"He is the best choice," Albus continued, talking over Severus as the man drew his wand, features contorting in anger. "Harry's dreams—visions—are getting worse. Harry may learn Occlumency under the pretence of extra Potions lessons. If you have a better idea, please say so."

Sirius and Severus were silent for a moment, both men silently seething.

Then Sirius announced, "Remus."

Albus frowned, not quite understanding what he meant.

"What?" Remus, who had been sitting quietly on the sidelines throughout the whole conversation (having presented the problem and now wanting nothing to do with it) interrupted. "What are you talking about, Sirius?"

"Remus," Sirius repeated, with the satisfied air of having solved a great problem. "Remus can teach Harry Occlumency."

"No, I can't, Sirius, I'm not good enough _myself_ at Occlumency, I can't possibly teach—"

"Of course you can," said Sirius bluntly. "And I know you've studied Legilimency, too. No one'll doubt it, since you're here for the readings anyway, and you've already given Harry private lessons before. Of course you'll teach Harry."

Remus gaped at him. Severus merely raised an eyebrow but refused to comment, which, Albus knew, meant he agreed but would never admit it. Sirius was leaning triumphantly back in his seat.

"Well," said Albus. "That _is_ as good a plan as any… Much better than my original plan, I daresay. If you will, Remus…?"

Remus gaped some more. Then, in a small voice that reminded Albus of when the werewolf had first come to Hogwarts, Remus said, "Well… alright."

* * *

Severus snarled, but it was lost in the laughter of the crowd. Oh, Lupin and Longbottom would _pay_. He would ensure it.

"Albus," he said angrily.

The Hogwarts Headmaster raised his eyebrows. Were those eyes _laughing_ at him? "Yes, Severus?"

"Your students," Severus said dangerously, "are getting out of hand. Might I suggest trying to _control_ them?"

Albus tilted his head amiably. "Oh, I should think it nothing, Severus," he said. "There is a reason you are Mr. Longbottom's Boggart, after all. He had to make you seem humorous somehow."

Severus gaped at him.

"Of course, as for this control you ask of, I am sure Madam Umbridge is doing well enough a job."

_She is _not_ doing 'well enough a job'!_ thought Severus furiously. _She's jumping up and down and screaming orders like a maniac while the students are ignoring her!_

Somewhere in the Hall, someone who Severus was sure was a Weasley twin shouted, "S-Snape in—in that dress—and that red handbag—bloody _brilliant_, Neville!"

His earlier suspicion of who the speaker's identity was confirmed when an answering voice roared, "Excellent, Professor Lupin—Merlin, I _wish_ I was in that class—"

_Gryffindors_, Severus thought grumpily, slumping in his chair. _Get away with murder._

* * *

_"Flight of the Fat Lady_," the book read out in a clear voice.

"Oh, yeah! That was when Sirius Black tried to kill Harry, right?"

"No, stupid, Ron Weasley was the one he attacked that night—"

"Everyone was _so_ scared—"

Disgusted at himself, Snuffles pulled the Extendable Ear out from beneath the Great Hall's double doors. They didn't understand, they didn't know—_it wasn't like he was proud of it!_ Shame and self-loathing pooled in his stomach, and he took off, deciding that even Grimmauld Place would truly be better than having to hear about himself.

* * *

"Wow. _Wow_."

"Seriously?" George breathed. "You asked McGonagall if you could go?"

Harry shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"I don't believe it," said Fred wonderingly. "How... how..."

"Hey," said Harry a tad defensively, "it didn't hurt to try, alri—"

"No, no, you misunderstand us completely, Harry," said Fred woefully. "It's not that. We sympathize. We're so sorry."

"Er... what?"

"Such a brave soul," said George, shaking his head. "Such nerve, going to McGonagall like that..."

"A true Gryffindor, Gred... we always knew you were a courageous man, Harry, old chap. We wouldn't have been able to do the same."

"Imagine the humiliation, asking the Cat Lady herself if he could go out to Hogsmeade—a moment of silence for our dear brother, everyone—"

"Misters Weasley," said McGonagall through gritted teeth.

* * *

George flopped down into one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. Merlin he felt bad. "That was the most depressing chapter we've had in a long time."

"A long, long time," agreed his twin.

"You know, Harry, half of that is your fault. You and your pessimistic thoughts."

"Shut up," snapped George's brother-except-for-the-hair, but even the dark-haired boy seemed too tired for banter. "I didn't think reading about losing a Quidditch match would be that bad."

"Well, considering you fainted because of Dementors, it's not really all that surprising," remarked Ginny. George agreed; he quite preferred not to have all the morbid details of the Boy Who Lived's life laid out for him to know. And he wished, more than he'd wished for anything in his life, that he still didn't know what Harry heard if a Dementor got too near. God, how did the guy ever manage to conjure an entire Patronus whenever he was faced with a mess like that?

"That, and Cedric Diggory got a nice long mention," mumbled Ron, uncharacteristically sober. "Half the Hufflepuffs are sobbing."

"It's not a surprise," whispered Hermione. "He never deserved to—to—" She could not finish her sentence. She did not need to; the unfinished _die_ hang thick in the air.

"And I called him thick and a _pushover_ at the practice," said Fred, his face screwed up in painful guilt. "Hell, he was so far from a pushover he actually tried to ask for a _rematch_. _I_ wouldn't have had the guts to be that fair."

George winced. The Hufflepuffs had not, originally, taken well to being looked down on, but remorse had been evident on the Gryffindor's side; they'd let it go—just this once.

He bit his lip and chanced a glance around the common room. All the faces were still downcast—including his own, this time. Not even the best of pranks would fix this.

* * *

"You're going to poke around in my _head_, sir?" Some small part of him told him to just be glad it wasn't Snape, but he wasn't feeling very grateful at the moment.

"I won't force my way into any memory you don't want me to," Lupin promised. "And you may use the Pensieve. Any memories you think are too private for me to see... think of them, touch your wand to your temple, and put it in the bowl." As he said it, Lupin himself put the tip of his wand against his temple; what looked like several silvery hairs followed his wand when he withdrew it, and he placed the memories into the Pensieve.

Harry stared into the swirling depths of the Pensieve. _'Too private'?_ His life was the _definition_ of 'too private'. Nevertheless...

There was no hope in keeping anything from the first two years at Hogwarts; Lupin already knew about those thanks to the books... but the graveyard would never be something he wanted the man to see, and Harry definitely didn't want him to see any more of the Dursleys... Slowly, Harry held his wand to his temple, thinking only of those memories, and was just slightly surprised when a thick white bundle of wisps remained attached to his wand as he removed it.

He looked up, resolute. "How do I Occlude then, Professor?"

Lupin seemed momentarily taken aback, but he said, "Try to empty your mind. Make it clear and file any unnecessary emotions away. If you can, try to imagine a shield guarding those thoughts you've locked away."

Harry nodded, more to himself than to his former professor, the words ringing in his head as he tried to concentrate. _Imagine a shield. No unnecessary emotions. Right._

"Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He clutched his wand tightly. He met Lupin's eyes.

"_Legilimens_!"

* * *

"Lupin?" Everyone was muttering again. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You asked for Professor Lupin to help you with the Dementors?" someone called loudly. When Ron's best mate remained utterly mute, the person said skeptically, "Did he really manage to teach you, then?"

Thus was Ron's breaking point. "Of course he did!" he exclaimed indignantly. _That guy's got some nerve_, he thought angrily. "Don't you question it!"

The other boy (a Ravenclaw not in Ron's year) frowned but mercifully kept his mouth shut. Ron wished duelling was possible in front of the teachers. Never before had he regretted shouting "_Get away from me, werewolf_!" in his professor's face that night in the Shack quite so much.

* * *

"Ah, the introduction of the Marauders," said Fred Weasley, grinning. "Owe them very much."

"Yes," sighed George Weasley. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, we are eternally grateful whoever you are."

The rest of the school broke into confused whispers. Harry, on the other hand, was looking gloomier than ever. "We really can't delay this, can we?"

Remus could see a twitch in Severus' eye, and he swore that Minerva's lips had completely disappeared. Nevertheless, he could not quite help the small smile that crossed his lips.

* * *

"Mr. Potter!" barked McGonagall. "You were forbidden to enter Hogsmeade—"

"I know, Professor, I get it," Harry said quickly. "Er, see, I couldn't, ah, let down Fred and George—yeah, that's it! I couldn't let down Fred and George after they'd given me that map!"

"Hey, no pinning it on us!"

McGonagall's lips were pursed. "I shall have to take back that map, Potter."

"But Professor Lupin already took it halfway through that school year!"

"And did he not give it back?"

Harry gulped. "Erm—it... has sentimental value! That's right—it's got a lot sentimental value for me."

"Sentimental value?" McGonagall asked tensely, but Harry knew that she was completely aware of what he was talking about.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And... and it's an heirloom, too, so it really does belong to me. You can't take it."

The professor looked ready to explode, but she said, "We shall see, Potter."

Harry sighed with relief.

* * *

As soon as Tonks got through the excruciating task of not tripping in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, she let out a laugh. "Sirius!" she called, rushing into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Mad-Eye."

Mad-Eye eyed her carefully; Tonks rolled her eyes and changed her hair to a dull green and back to prove herself.

"Tonks! Finally!" Sirius rushed into the room. "Have you got any news, then? What part are they on? Is the book almost finished?"

"You're too impatient," scolded Tonks lightly, before saying, "No, we're not finished, we're only about halfway, I bet. Harry's already found out about... about what the Ministry thinks is the truth about you," she said, stumbling only slightly. "And it was about the worst possible way he could've found out. He'd overheard Fudge and some of the teachers talking about you when he snuck into the Three Broomsticks."

"Oh," said Sirius heavily after a moment. "Well, it wasn't like he didn't know—he was furious with me when we first met..." He trailed off; Tonks wished he would not brood.

Mad-Eye, though, remarked, "At least he knows why someone other than Voldemort's after him. Sure, it's Wormtail, but at least he's got a bit of a warning—"

"Not helping, Mad-Eye."

* * *

"That," called one of the students in a disgusted voice, "is the most unfair, most biased, and most corrupt thing I've seen in my life."

Cornelius felt a flush cover his face. "Excuse me?" he tried to say, but his voice felt feeble even to his own ears.

"But—Buckbeak honestly didn't do anything wrong!" someone shouted; Cornelius didn't dare look up. "You can't give him a hearing—I'd like to see how you do when people insult you like that!" As he said it, the student sent a murderous look at the Slytherin table, where the Malfoy scion was looking supremely unimpressed.

"All hippogriffs are a little prideful, everyone with some sense knows that!" said Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank in righteous indignation, and Cornelius could think of no argument. "A little practical lesson never hurt anyone as long as there was caution, which Hagrid exercised well enough!"

"Now, the Committee wasn't able to go through with it anyway," he said, attempting to placate. "Buckbeak, you see, managed to get away—"

"That is hardly the point," said Minerva irritably.

"I suppose I shall see to it," responded Amelia gracefully. "It is neither Buckbeak nor Hagrid's fault."

Cornelius looked down at his hands. He wondered how damaged his reputation was now; he knew—he was not as ignorant as he was stupid—that he was hanging onto his position as Minister with barely more than a thread, and the Wizarding community held the shears.

* * *

"Wow. That was how you got the Firebolt?"

"And without a note or anything, too! Talk about one hell of a present..."

"Your Christmases are really _wacky_, aren't they? First you get an Invisibility Cloak, second you brew Polyjuice Potion, _now_ you get a _Firebolt_..."

Normally he hated these books, but this chapter was really only a reminder of his first connection to Sirius, even if he _had_ thought him a murderer then, or if McGonagall had confiscated the beloved broom afterwards... Harry ducked his head, fighting the grin threatening to surface on his lips. It was a futile battle.

* * *

"What?" Remus said, startled. _The Patronus_... that probably meant the first private lesson to ward off the Dementors. Remus shook his head. Were they that far into the book already?

He thought back—and suddenly wished he hadn't eaten so much. He wished Tonks wasn't here to see his face. Hell, he wished it was night and the full moon, just so _he couldn't be here_. Patronuses were all fine to read about, but the thing was, were there were Patronuses there were often _Dementors_, and Dementors were a different thing entirely.

Was it just him, or was the book reading faster than normal?

He glanced at Harry, whose expression was slightly shaky but nonetheless reassured, and Remus thought that if he had half the bravery his former student had he'd probably die happy. It was not everyday you were forced to hear your parents in their moments of death, especially not moments that would inadvertently lead to you surviving when you shouldn't have.

Lily had been bad enough. Her final pleas featured regularly in Remus' nightmares. But James... His long-dead friend's last words might just destroy him.

* * *

"Oh... So those were you're Dad's last words..."

"That must have been horrible to hear, huh?"

"Of course it was, how would you feel if it had been you?"

For once, Lavender did not feel any need to join the conversation. _It was all so disgusting, so crude,_ she realized now, late as it was, _how they invaded Harry's privacy without a second thought... Didn't they think that maybe, just maybe, Harry'd like to keep it to himself?_ She marvelled at her Housemate's self-control. Why hadn't he hexed anyone already? More specifically, why hadn't he hexed _her_? She knew she hadn't exactly been the most supportive of people. But that was about to change. Or at least, she'd try to.

* * *

"That is... impressive," said Amelia Bones slowly. "It is not every day one is able to produce an incorporeal Patronus on the third try."

_Damn right it's impressive!_ thought Tonks, wide-eyed. _I couldn't get one like that for nearly a week!_

Remus was grinning, the prat. Harry's face was red, though a corner of his lips twitched with pride, and he mumbled something vaguely resembling a thank-you. Tonks shook her head in wonder.

* * *

"Not another Quidditch match," moaned Hermione.

"What? What's wrong with Quidditch?" demanded Ron, insulted.

"Well, nothing," said Hermione, "except that the last chapter there was Quidditch involved, it wasn't really a good one."

"But this is different," said Ron stubbornly. "We _won_ this time."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Oh, I remember this," said Padma, grinning.

"The Big Bang," said Dean, rolling his eyes.

"Shouting matches!" cried Seamus. "Everywhere!"

"I remember my ears hurt," mumbled Neville.

"Like an old married couple, only louder," giggled Lavender.

"You know, it's not so funny when both parties are your friends," said Harry glumly.

Suffice to say, both Hermione and Ron were both very red now.

* * *

"_Oooh_," cooed George.

"Harry's got a _crush_," continued Fred.

"Pot-ter and Cha-ang! Pot-ter and Cha-ang!" they sang simultaneously, and wolf whistles and catcalls covered the Hall.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was surprised to find he was less affected than he expected to be. At the Ravenclaw table, he saw Cho flush furiously, but he couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed. Subconsciously, he felt his gaze drift to Ginny, and felt his stomach flip. _That_ was when he blushed.

* * *

"Really, Potter?" Draco hissed under his breath. "Distracted because the _enemy_ Seeker screamed and pointed at the ground—you'd have thought he was _used _to that—"

"Well, at least he's scared of Dementors and not Patronuses!" someone snarled into his ear; enraged, Draco turned and saw a dark-haired, icy-eyed girl looking sharply at him. A Greengrass, no doubt; she looked too much like her sister, and two of them were enough for one school, in Draco's opinion. The Greengrasses were purebloods, yes, but so disgustingly _neutral._

"Excuse me," he said in a lofty voice, "But are you _defending_ Potter? You should know, surely, that doing something as _idiotic_ as that"—he sneered at her for good measure—"isn't appropriate behavior for a worthy snake."

To his surprise, the girl only raised an eyebrow. "Of course I wasn't defending Potter," she snapped. "I was just stating that actually pretending to be a Dementor was about the most foolish thing you could have possibly attempted."

Draco bristled. "Who do you think you are—"

"Someone sensible enough not to sabotage the Gryffindor Quidditch team in such a blatantly un-Slytherin way, that's who," she cut him off and turned back to the book.

Draco's cheeks pinked as a few of the older students snickered.

* * *

Hermione was right again, in the end. The reminder of the match against Ravenclaw might have been an excuse for celebration (though not for the Ravenclaws), but any happy feelings were soon quashed as the chapter brought up another event: the time when Sirius Black had, successfully, broken into the dormitory and tried to kill Ron (or Pettigrew, but very few people knew about that).

All in all, none of the students really enjoyed that part very much.

* * *

"So!" Malfoy shouted. "You did do that, then! You—"

"Harry what, exactly?" Seamus shouted. "Threw mudballs at the back of your head for being a prat?"

The Gryffindor table laughed, but Ron felt only dread. Harry, sitting beside him, looked the same way. Harry hadn't even been allowed in Hogsmeade then, and this was the second time he had snuck in. They would be _in so much trouble_ for this.

Sure enough, The Toad soon made herself known again. "Well," Umbridge said sweetly, "I am sure that this deserves at least some punishment."

Snape, who sat a little close to The Toad, smiled vindictively. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, perhaps?" he said lazily, but Ron knew it wasn't a question; he could almost hear the rubies being removed in the Entrance Hall.

Git.

"Yes," Umbridge said, "and a detention ought to do it, I think."

Toa—

Then Ron froze. _Detention? Again?_ Across him, sheer fury crossed Hermione's face. Helplessly Ron glanced at Harry, who glared defiantly at Umbridge, then at Harry's hand, where the horrible words were still etched. Dumbledore frowned, looking suddenly thrice his age. Ron glanced to McGonagall, but while his Head of House stared angrily at Umbridge and Snape, there was nothing to be done.

* * *

"Wait a minute," Fred said. "Snape said _his full name_?"

"Oh, dear," whispered George gleefully. "Wonder what'll happen now?"

Harry glanced at the staff table worriedly. Snape's face was growing rather red...

Fred let loose a rather loud giggle, and Harry glared at him. "Not funny," he hissed. "I'm on _Snape's hit list_ already!"

"Sorry, mate," said George. "Do you even know what's going to—?"

"Of course I do," snapped Harry. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, didn't it? I was sitting right in the bat's office, trying to come up with _one_ good alibi, and then suddenly this supposedly random piece of parchment starts insulting him like mad!"

Fred couldn't help it. He giggled again.

* * *

"Oh, let it go already, Minerva," Pomona sighed. One hour. One hour after that dreaded chapter and the Deputy still hadn't calmed down. It was starting to drive Pomona mad.

"How can I?" her old friend all but shrieked. "How Potter can do that _for the second time_ when a murderer was supposedly on the loose—reckless, foolish, inconsiderate—"

"You mean he's a teenager," Pomona said gently. "Honestly, would you have resisted the temptation when you were thirteen, with an Invisibility Cloak and a map that showed all of Hogwarts and its residents?"

"You must admit, that map's not a bad piece of magic," put in Filius. "Silly and mischievous, but it could prove helpful if you needed it."

Minerva scowled. "Still! It was stupid, careless—"

"I very much agree," drawled Severus.

Minerva glared.

"Shut—up, Severus! I would have taken points from Gryffindor if—"

"By all means," Severus said.

"_—If you hadn't already done it_," Minerva finished dangerously.

"Oh, don't let _me_ stop you," said Severus in a would-be pleasant voice. "I quite think Potter deserves _much_ more than—"

Minerva glared harder. Severus wisely chose to shut up.

* * *

For about the fiftieth time that day, Ron turned to Hermione. "I'm s—"

"Oh, it's fine, Ron, I forgave you a thousand times over already," cut Hermione in with honest exasperation. "It doesn't matter."

Ron shrugged, ducking his head and looking away. "Still."

He did not notice the small smile tugging at the corners of Hermione's mouth.

* * *

"How'm I supposed to hide this from Lupin now?" Harry wondered out loud. His right hand, still bleeding badly from Umbridge's detention, was soaked again in Hermione's murtlap essence, but the words _I must not tell lies _were cut deeper than ever into it. "And Tonks! She's an Auror—_how_ do I keep this inconspicuous? It was hard enough covering it up _before_..."

"Tonks doesn't always sit at the Gryffindor table, and Professor Lupin sits far away enough, you'll be fine," Hermione assured him, deciding not to mention that she actually wished Tonks would find out, or Lupin or Professor McGonagall. Harry didn't deserve this.

* * *

"Just what we all need," said Pomona Sprout cheerfully. Dolores couldn't quite tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. "Another Quidditch match!"

"It's definitely not what _I_ need," she heard Severus sneer. Slytherin must have lost, then. Pity.

"Do keep quiet, Severus," Minerva muttered under her breath. "It's only the most unfair match of the century."

Dolores raised her eyebrows. Interesting.

"You _won_!" the Potions master nearly snarled.

"And yet it was still incredibly undignified on your part. But of course, that only makes our victory all the better."

"Why, you—"

"Excuse me?" Dolores piped up sweetly. "Might I care to join in your conversation?"

Dolores thought she might have heard Filius Flitwick mutter "oh, dear" in the background, and Severus and Minerva both glared at her for a moment.

"Never mind, _Professor_ Umbridge."

"I'm afraid, Dolores, it just ended."

* * *

"Whoa," said Cormac McLaggen. A table away, Justin Finch-Fletchley felt a pang of annoyance. "You heard _Trelawney_ make a _prophecy_?"

Harry shrugged dully. "Had to be some reason she was the Divination professor."

McLaggen was now gazing at Harry as though he were some kind of interesting specimen. Justin vaguely wondered if he could get away with slamming his fist into the guy's face with the professors watching. This was the DA's leader the guy was having a go at, after all.

"Does that mean You-Know-Who really _is_ back, though?"

_Well, he's only tried to tell you that all year!_ Justin thought impatiently. He remembered belatedly that Harry most likely had to deal with people like these daily, and winced on his behalf.

* * *

As soon as Dumbledore had decided to give the school a break, Ginny cornered them. "What's going on?" she demanded. "I thought Buckbeak wasn't dead—you said he was Witherwings—"

"Don't say it so loud, Ginny," Hermione said, "but yes, Buckbeak's alive. He got away. He really _is _Witherwings. Just—you'll see."

"What? How—"

"You'll see," said Ron, looking very uncomfortable.

Ginny frowned. She really _did_ want to know what happened, but if it would keep getting Harry and the others into trouble, well, she wouldn't be pushy. Of course, the rest of the school didn't seem to care about _that._ It was Sirius Black this and Buckbeak that, and Harry was in the thick of it, too; everyone seemed to talk about him almost as much, but then that shouldn't really be all that surprising.

"You saved him, though, didn't you," she said. She looked at Harry, making sure not to glance at his right hand, where she knew there would be scars. (Stupid, secretive git. She'd noticed it the day after the new detention Toadface had given again. Lupin and Sirius didn't know yet, but they'd figure it out soon enough for sure.) "I don't know how you did it, but you did."

Harry flushed, glancing at her somewhat covertly. "Well… sort of."

Tomorrow they'd continue the reading; tomorrow she'd know what had happened.

Ginny snorted, but she turned firmly away as well, in case her face went red too.

* * *

Harry heaved a deep breath; he looked around at Ron and Hermione. Were they as anxious as he was?

Stomach churning, he stared at the rest of the students in the Hall, now avidly listening. They didn't _know_, he realized with a panic. They didn't know how close it was; that, in a few chapters or so—if all went well—Sirius could (possibly, hopefully, _maybe_) be free.

* * *

"Hey, what happened to Scabbers, anyway, if he wasn't really dead?" asked Dean. "I still don't see him around anymore."

"Oh, he ran away again after that, and I thought it was just, you know, best to let him go," Ron said carelessly, but when no one was listening any longer he said under his breath, "Good riddance."

* * *

"And here we go again," said Eddie Carmichael in a sing-song voice.

Harry Potter blinked at him. "What're you talking about?"

"It happens every year, you know," said Eddie as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Some time before the school year ends, you three get into some kind of adventure wherein something big happens. First year—the Stone. Second—the Chamber." He listened to the book for a few seconds. "See—you're getting beat up by the Willow now. Five Galleons this year has something to do with Black."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all gawked at him, and Eddie smirked to himself.

* * *

"There's a passage?" shrieked Lee. "But—but it's impossible to get through the Whomping Willow—unless you want to get beaten to a _pulp_, anyway—"

Fred's mouth was open. "There was a _knot_ at the trunk—that—that—"

"That bloody tree actually had a sort of secret _code_ to get in?" George was exactly the same.

Ron tried very hard not to grin.

* * *

"That's how," said Fudge with wide eyes. "He trapped them... An unregistered, _dog _Animagus..." He whirled on Dumbledore. "You knew, didn't you? You _knew_—"

"No," said Dumbledore. _He was a pretty good actor_, Harry thought. "This comes to me as much of a shock as to you, Cornelius."

Cornelius glared and sat down, which should've been entertaining, but Harry felt only panic. It had taken him too long a time to believe Sirius was innocent before. The book was from his point of view: it would be too detailed, too thorough, fleshing out each event for the students to know. Normally that wasn't a problem, but to prove Sirius' innocence Harry needed it to be faster—the Ministry did not yet need to know about his initial hate for Sirius, or Lupin's involvement, or how they had hexed Snape; all they needed to know right now was that _Sirius was innocent_, because that was the most important thing, and Ministry needed to know that and _only_ that, simple and straightforward.

Not that Harry could do anything about it.

* * *

"Oh, what's happening now?" said Susan Bones. She had the odd feeling that a mystery was just about to be unravelled, and they were right on the tip of doing so. "We do know you're a werewolf, sir..." Her voice, while slightly shrill, was solemn, displaying no disgust. "But in _league_ with Sirius Black—?"

"I wasn't in league with him," said Professor Lupin calmly. "I simply came to a conclusion that led me to a few important realizations. It shall be explained."

Susan stared at him. Talk about vague. At the Ravenclaw table, she heard Eddie Carmichael say feebly, "I _did _tell you something big would happen."

* * *

"Wait—Professor? Professor Lupin?" George Weasley's mouth was open. "You were—you were one of—you made the—the—"

"Well, I'm hardly a Professor, really," said Remus. He found he was quite enjoying himself. "But yes, I did hold the title of Moony."

Fred Weasley's mouth was open too. "_Merlin_."

"And you know about the cloak, too!"

"Our idols—"

"Our _heroes_—"

Harry snorted and mumbled something to Ron, and the twins turned on them. "That's why you said it was an heirloom!" they cried. "Your dad—and Padfoot—you never told us!"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, you never _asked_," he said. "Now shut up, the bloody book's reading."

* * *

"Another unregistered Animagus," said Luna, for once very serious. "Peter Pettigrew takes the name of Wormtail, then. Padfoot and Prongs aren't a rat's name."

"But it still doesn't fit," said Padma Patil. "Fine, so he's an Animagus and so is Black, but what's that got to do with anythi—" Her mouth fell open. "You're not saying—"

Luna shrugged. Sirius Black's Animagus form was a symbol of loyalty. Peter Pettigrew's was not. The book would explain it, in very clear detail, in a few moments. "There was a sewer when those twelve muggles were destroyed," she whispered. "And the Weasley family knows a rat called Scabbers."

The pieces were coming together. Luna watched Padma's face fill with horror, while she hid her own within a mask of absent-mindedness.

* * *

"Eleven," said Madam Bones tiredly. Hermione saw Dumbledore shoot her a concerned glance. "Eleven Animagi this century, not just seven. Or at least, seven registered, four unregistered."

Hermione knew it wasn't appropriate, but unbidden her thoughts flew to a beetle she'd once trapped in a jar. _Twelve_, she corrected mentally. _But you won't know that till the fourth book._

* * *

"Oh, lucky," cried one of the students. "Snape just had to show up, did he?"

Furious, Snape tried to search out the speaker, but another voice said softly, "Severus?"

Sighing, he looked to the headmaster. When he met the man's eyes he barely held back a flinch. There was grief there, and sorrow, and horrible, horrible _disappointment_.

"You did not listen, did you," Albus said, voice so low it was impossible for anyone to overhear, even in the silent Hall. "You are blinded by your hatred once more."

"When you are faced with an alleged murderer and a werewolf, you do not tend to wait for explanations!" Severus hissed. "And I would do the same thing again in a heartbeat!"

He regretted that last statement as soon as he said it. "Perhaps," Albus said, his voice quite cold, "But please keep in mind, Severus, that you are on the same side in this war now."

* * *

Harry slumped in his seat. "Shield me," he said, trying to hide behind Ron.

"How can I?" Ron said frantically, his eyes darting to the staff table and back. "He's glaring at _me_, too!"

"He's glaring at _all three of us_," said Hermione, looking terrified. "Oh, we're going to be expelled—we should never have done that—"

"What? I don't regret attacking Snape," said Harry. "Knocking him out was okay. I just regret that the book has to _bring it up_."

* * *

Finally, finally: silence, brought on by the ugly, twisted truth. Silence, but not for long—

"Innocent. Black—Black's innocent? You never—nobody ever—"

"Pettigrew's_ alive_—!"

"But then how—why's he on the run, then? Surely Fudge's not that much of a bloody—"

"_Enough_!"

Harry stiffened in his seat. He hated that voice. Oh, how he _loathed_ it.

"Now," Dolores Umbridge continued, and Harry wondered if he should just let all caution go and hex her already because _God_, someone had to do it _some_time—"I'm sure there's been an error, that's all. Sirius Black is and always will be, a criminal—"

"Well, that's pretty bloody insulting, isn't it?"

Oh, no. _Hell_, no. Not now.

Sirius was at the double doors, grinning for all he was worth, and by the looks on the whole school's faces, the Notice-Me-Not charm was not on this time. _Damnit, Sirius, what are you doing? This wasn't in the plan!_

"Sirius Black!"

"It's him, it's—"

"Well, _duh_." Sirius shrugged like this was a normal conversation. "Honestly, I was hoping for something a little livelier, like, say, you could grovel for forgiveness at my feet, but obviously I was being too optimistic."

"You—you are still an illegal Animagus!" Umbridge shrieked, but Harry saw that as she spoke face-to-face with his godfather she seemed to have lost her nerve. "You still broke the law—"

"Oh, and what are you going to do about it?" said Sirius, a bitter tone underlying his words, his face changing completely. "What, going to send me to Azkaban again? Going to lock me up there for twelve years without a trial?"

"He's mental," whispered Harry. So stupid—did Sirius think the Ministry would listen this time? The Ministry would only lock him up again, back in Azkaban—there would be no going back now—Sirius was throwing himself into a trap—_stupid, stupid, so _stupid_..._

He tried to stand up, but Professor Lupin had grabbed his arm, and Harry saw that his former teacher looked just as worried as he. "You can't, Harry. You're already in trouble by association. You mustn't—"

"I don't care," Harry hissed, trying to tug his arm free. He'd get himself into trouble a thousand times over if it meant Sirius wouldn't be back in Azkaban ever. _What the hell was Dumbledore doing? Why was he just _sitting_ there, of all things?_

"You are an Azkaban escapee," Fudge was saying. "You have no right to—"

"I'm an _innocent_ Azkaban escapee," said Sirius cheerily. Fudge blinked, his mouth falling slightly open. "By the way, I want an Order of Merlin. How come Wormtail got one and not me, anyway? Also"—Sirius snapped his fingers at someone else—"go on, Snivelly. Veritaserum. Get it, pronto."

Snape's face twisted into a sneer. "If you are still of the arrogant belief that everyone is beneath you, Black, then I am afraid I will have to disappoint you—"

"He is quite right to ask for the potion this time, I think, Severus," Dumbledore intervened swiftly, and Harry was relieved. Instead of making the already furious Snape fetch it, though, he merely twitched his wand and said, "_Accio Veritaserum._"

For the first time, Harry considered the thought that perhaps the Ministry was still a touch redeemable. He knew that Amelia Bones, who was sitting in her seat and scrutinizing Sirius very carefully, would want Sirius free no matter what if the truth was confirmed. He was glad to have his breathing ease out a little, but his worry did not completely disappear.

"Now," Dumbledore said when the vial of the truth serum slipped into his hand, "I believe this would be better discussed in my office. Would that be alright with you, Sirius?"

Harry tried to send him a silent request, but Dumbledore still wouldn't glance his way.

* * *

Hermione sighed. She had never felt more anxious in her life. Not when she watched Harry in the First Task, not when she turned back time to save Sirius, not when she waited for Madam Pomfrey to let her in the hospital wing to see Ron after he had gotten knocked out by the giant chess board.

She sighed again. Ron twiddled his thumbs. Ginny gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Even the twins were silent. And Harry? Harry paced.

"Mate?" Ron muttered. "Aren't you tired or something?"

"I _am_," Harry said, but he kept pacing. It didn't take very long for him to burst out again, "It's been nearly four hours!"

"We know, Harry," Hermione said gently. "We're waiting too—"

"Hi."

Hermione jumped. Sirius was standing at the door. There was no sign of trouble—no Aurors, no Dementors, nothing—but Sirius looked so worn out and desperate and _not Sirius_ that worry and panic bubbled up in Hermione's throat despite herself. _It's insane_, she thought. _They'd never send Sirius back to—_

But she found she could not finish the thought. She waited for the news to break, but Sirius was silent. They stared at him.

"Well?" Harry all but shouted, and he looked so very helpless that Hermione could not help but feel bad for him, even though she knew how much Harry hated pity.

A steady, triumphant smile gathered at the edges of Sirius' mouth. "Full pardon," he said quietly, and by the time the words had registered into her mind, Harry's arms were already around his godfather, joy in his face, and Hermione laughed a laugh of delight as everyone cheered.

* * *

Harry's defenses were thick and strong, but there were too many chinks in his armor, and Remus slipped through all too easily. Fleeting memories shone in his mind: Harry's first sight of Hogwarts; a Bludger, pelting out of nowhere, smashing into Harry's arm; Harry, being congratulated for getting a spot in the Tournament, something he never wanted in the first place—

He withdrew. Harry had collapsed on the floor, staggered by Remus' onslaught, and Remus gave a wince his student couldn't see. "Here," he said, taking him by the shoulders and steering him into a chair. He offered the teen a goblet of water, knowing full well it would not help by much.

Still, Harry accepted it grudgingly but did not drink, instead staring blankly into it. Remus watched him uncertainly. He knew Harry was frustrated by the subject; it certainly wasn't an easy one. **  
**

"I'm not progressing at all."

Remus could've laughed. He doubted _he _would've been any better at Harry's age. Occlumency, in his opinion, was a lot like flying or Potions: some people were simply born with an affinity for it, while others would have a much more difficult time in mastering the art. He himself had been one of the former.

"Of course you're progressing. I think it's like what happened with the Dementors. Your memories, once brought up, are too vivid—too distracting—so it's much harder to ignore them and focus on what you're supposed to do."

If anything, Harry looked even more miserable at this prospect. "But if I can't even focus, then I'll never learn—"

"Definitely not, with that attitude," Remus said sternly. Harry fell silent.

To be honest, Harry wasn't bad at all. His defenses were inexperienced, but that didn't mean they were useless. Remus thought back to all that he knew about Occlumency. "There are other ways of Occluding," he said thoughtfully. "It's true that Occlumency is very precise, but for some wizards it turns out to be more trial-and-error than anything. There _are_ other methods, albeit rarer. If you're willing to try..."

"Of course I'll try them," said Harry immediately. "I want to learn as fast as I can."

The determination in his gaze was disarming. Remus blinked, before nodding briskly, but inwardly he laughed. Harry Potter was as stubborn as his parents.

* * *

Sirius grinned, stretched, whooped, looked out the window (it was still dark), and yelled.

"_FREEEEEEEEE_!"

"Sirius!" Remus jerked up, startled, and glared at him. _Ah, Moony_, Sirius thought fondly. _Always did like his beauty sleep._

"What?" he asked innocently.

Remus scowled. "You know, just because you've been granted pardon by the Ministry it doesn't mean you're allowed to wake up half the castle."

"Yes it does." Sirius grinned even wider. "Come on, help me freak out the school, I bet they don't know yet—"

"Dumbledore announced it last night. And the muggles are informed too."

"Oh," Sirius sighed. "Spoilsport. Well, I reckon they'll still be surprised."

He got up, a very _manly_ spring in his steps, and took in his surroundings. They'd been allowed to sleep in one of the old classrooms, and Sirius relished in being in Hogwarts again. He smiled. James would have called him a sappy old man.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Let's go, the reading will start in a few hours—"

"Hey!" Sirius stopped. "You said the muggles know I'm innocent?"

"Yes..."

"I can visit the Dursleys then, have a nice long chat!"

"_What_? No, you can't, Sirius, you—"

"Right after this book," Sirius declared. A thousand devilish thoughts were already running through his head. "Yeah, and a curse here and there..."

Remus looked mortified. "Come again, Sirius? You can't curse them, they're—"

"All right, then, just a nice long chat it is," he shrugged, grabbing hold of Remus and starting to drag him off to the Hall. "A Howler here, a Howler there..."

Remus groaned; Sirius grinned.

* * *

Harry hesitated, and then called out, "Do we really have to finish this? I mean, everyone already has a good idea of what's going to happen, so—"

"Of course we do!"

"'A good idea of what's going on'? Sorry, but we're actually clueless!"

"Yeah, like how come Black wasn't proven innocent _then_, or how did Pettigrew get away, or—"

Harry groaned and said loudly: "Oh, al_right_"—and then there was a loud _thunk_ as his head connected with the table.

Sirius laughed.

* * *

"Oh no," whispered Angelina. "The full moon—and the potion—Wolfsbane—" Bile rose in her throat, and she tried desperately to force it down. So that was how it had happened, then; _that_ was the one, fatal flaw of the plan. She stared at her former professor; Remus Lupin would have looked perfectly fine, perfectly cool and calm and collected—except his face was too pale, and his hands shook too noticeably, and his stance was too tense.

"What about Pettigrew, then?" said Alicia quietly, and Angelina wondered how her friend found the nerve to speak, to break the damning silence. "Did he—"

"Got away," snarled Sirius Black, and the joy from only a few hours ago was gone. Angelina's gaze snapped to him; not yet used to the thought that the man was free and innocent and misunderstood, she shrank away, more by instinct than real terror—

—And then she shook herself. This was no one's fault.

* * *

He crept near the walls, listening. To be sent to hear about this book was physical pain. All his lies, all his betrayals, all the things he'd done for the wrong side—all laid out for Hogwarts to know. And the Dark Lord knew it.

He didn't _dare_ go near the Gryffindor table. He always hid near the hole by the Slytherins' part of the Hall, keeping his silver paw away from sight, making sure he never saw Sirius or Remus or _anyone_.

He especially avoided Harry.

They were reading of the night Remus had transformed in the open, because who could remember to drink a potion in a mess like that?—and how he had deserted them instead of facing the consequences of his own sins, running away with his own heart screaming _"Traitor!"_ in his ears...

He knew he should pay attention; the Dark Lord would ask what he heard later on... but everything in this book just translated into pain—_pain pain pain,_ and he wanted _out_ already—

But that didn't matter. He'd chosen this; _deserved_ it if anything. He'd betrayed the Potters when he'd first looked to the Death Eaters and not to the Order, he'd betrayed Remus when he'd found his way into the Weasley family and left his last friend to grieve alone, and he'd betrayed Sirius when he'd destroyed those twelve muggles and his own humanity.

_The students are shouting again,_ he noticed vaguely. But it was no doubt about the book again, and he didn't want to hear about that bloody thing, didn't want to know that everyone knew his mistakes now, didn't want to think that he could have avoided all this if he'd just trusted his friends like _they'd trusted him_. He was afraid of the Dark Lord, yes, and he was afraid of the Cruciatus Curse, that was true, but he was _terrified_, utterly terrified, of his once-friends.

His stomach turned again, like he was about to vomit, and his paws shook convulsively no matter how much he tried to stop it, and his throat wanted to scream even though all that would come out was a rat's harmless squeak, he knew, and his mind wanted to transform back, transform back because _you deserve the Dementor's Kiss and you know it_, and his heart _ached ached ached_—

Had Peter Pettigrew been just one shade wiser, he'd have known the feeling was guilt.

* * *

"The Dementors tried to _Kiss_ you?" said McGonagall faintly.

There it was again, that guilty half-shrug from her student, that apologetic expression that shouldn't be there because _this wasn't his fault_, why couldn't that just sink into his great stubborn mind?

_However had they gotten out of it with a soul? _Almost unconsciously, she slumped into her chair. She'd been a horrible Head of House, and not because she was strict. She should have known. She should have realized the strain on her students' shoulders, the growing bigotry between the four houses (just two, actually—_damn you_, Severus!)...

She should have known.

* * *

The chapter ended.

"...I still can't believe it!" shrieked one particularly hysterical student. "You were almost Kissed! _Kissed_..."

"Incredible, really," murmured Remus, "that you actually managed to keep them at bay until," he furrowed his brows, searching for a way to word it without giving anything away, "until help finally came."

"But it still wasn't him, was it?" a seventh year yelled. "Someone else saved them—who? It couldn't have been Potter, because he was about to lose his soul, Black and Granger were the same, Weasley's leg is broken, Pettigrew's clearly a coward, Professor Snape couldn't have found them that fast, and Professor Lupin's still a werewolf, still a werewolf, so who?"

The other students, staff, and Ministry officials shifted, pondering the question. Harry grinned to himself, even though he knew it really wasn't appropriate when reading a chapter like this. He shot half a glance at Sirius, who gave him that same ecstatic, knowing look, and Harry shook his head and looked away. If only they knew.

* * *

Amelia Bones was not, as a fact, prejudiced, biased, or partial in any way. That was her motto as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it would be for as long as she lived. The Bones family was a Light family, yes, but she would listen to all sides, and she would give credit where credit was due.

Therefore, she was rather disgusted at the Minister. It was rather astounding, really, how Cornelius was so very _nice_ to Potter in this book—before danger had truly arrived and the weather had not turned foul. Merlin and Morgana, he spoke so badly of the Boy Who Lived these days it was a surprise such a time existed.

She knew why, of course; Cornelius had always been easy to manipulate, but this was worse. Stupid man, he was just trying to stick with all the strong influences. Justice didn't matter to Cornelius Fudge, and neither, therefore, to the Ministry. Only power, only weakness. Sometimes it was rather disgusting to be in the same Ministry as people like him.

The book was still reading—they were nearing Granger's Time-Turner, and she could help but wonder how the students would react. Only a few from the Ministry knew.

Her gaze wandered to Percy Weasley. Still he stood on the Ministry's side, but there was doubt in his eyes. But she herself had not realized the great gaps in the Ministry's righteousness until the books themselves had pointed them out. A man taken to Azkaban without a trial. A half-giant taken to Azkaban for reasons not even researched well. A hippogriff sentenced to death by bribery.

A most uncharacteristic scowl made its way onto her face. She would not be on Fudge's side any longer.

* * *

"A Time-Turner!" breathed Remus. "So that's how..."

"Isn't that... risky?" one of the students wondered—Cho something, Remus thought, but that didn't seem very important anymore. "Meddling with time isn't a good idea..."

"I made Miss Granger promise to only use it for her studies," answered Minerva's voice, sounding more tired than usual. "Though in the circumstances..."

"So you two used it to rescue... who?" another student called: Hannah Abott.

"Sirius," Ron said abruptly.

The other girl's eyes narrowed. "But Professor Dumbledore said more than one innocent life, so who was—" Then her breath caught, and she laughed. "Buckbeak! You saved Buckbeak!"

The students were whispering again; most were looking delighted, but most of the Slytherin table looked sour. At the staff table, though, the rest of the adults were just about _yelling_.

Fudge was saying something about 'illegal' and 'disapproved of'; not that many were listening anymore. Remus wanted to laugh. If the law itself was in the wrong, then it wasn't a law at all. Dumbledore was his old serene self, putting Fudge and Umbridge down with a smiling mouth and twinkling eyes; Amelia was silent, but her gaze was disapproving, just about ready to erupt; Flitwick's mouth was open in alarm, and Sprout was shaking her head mournfully.

"That is bias," Remus heard Severus hiss, voice carrying despite the turmoil. "You let her handle a Time-Turner just for grades?"

"I made sure the Ministry allowed it," Minerva said airily. "If you wanted one of yours to have one for sensible reasons, Severus, I would not have held it against you."

Severus went red in the face, not only from anger but also embarrassment. Remus looked away. _Poor man_, he thought, only half meaning it. He looked to Sirius; his old friend was grinning again, and it was infectious. Remus grinned, too.

* * *

And the chapter ended. "No way," Anthony Goldstein breathed, still quite a bit in shock. "That—that was _so_ risky..."

He knew the rules of time-travel well; he was not only a Ravenclaw, after all: he also hoped to be an Unspeakable. He knew: one wrong move, one wrong step—you could be erased from history completely. There was _so much danger._ He'd even read several accounts: a man who had killed his own past self... a lady who had committed suicide after realizing that her future-self had unknowingly killed her entire family... an old Ministry official who had messed with a Time-Turner and simply disappeared, lost in time...

The thoughts made him shiver. Two of his classmates had tried basically the same thing—with the additional threat of dementors, an escaped convict, and a werewolf.

But it was brilliant, really. Harry Potter's past-self thought he was his dad, while it was his future-self all along. The past had seen the future, but had thought it was someone else, allowing the future to be safe and rendering the plan fool-proof—a never-ending paradox.

Didn't mean it wasn't a horribly scary thing to do. He turned his head to the Gryffindor table, which was unusually solemn but at the same time seemingly triumphant. He saw the innocent man—Sirius Black; Anthony still couldn't get over the fact that he'd spent _twelve undeserved years _in that hell—grinning, while Harry and Hermione wore the smallest of smug smiles. Ron simply watched amusedly on.

Anthony shook his head. _Utterly impossible._

* * *

"...That is _so_ lucky."

"—he gave it _back_!"

"First a Cloak, now a Map!"

"_—he gave it _back_!"_

"And they're both heirlooms!"

"Heirloom or not," Harry heard McGonagall say clearly, "we will be discussing this, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded with as much dignity as he could muster. He'd expected as much.

...stupid books.

* * *

Tonks scowled angrily at her food, all appetite gone. And just after they had finished the third book, too.

Well, okay—so she _was_ hungry, but listening to that toad Umbridge mutter about 'horrible half-breeds' and 'disgusting werewolves' whenever Remus was in hearing range was enough to put anybody off their lunch. Oh, how she wished that woman would just get herself fired already. She almost wished she hadn't chosen today to sit with the Gryffindor house with Remus, just so she wouldn't hear Umbridge's mouth spouting garbage.

She chanced a glance at Remus, who was sitting across her. He was talking calmly with Sirius as always, but Tonks wasn't fooled. As if Remus hadn't heard. He had the hearing of a werewolf, after all.

Remus must have felt her gaze, because he looked up and met her eyes. "What is it, Tonks?" he asked. Tonks felt her face flush.

"Nothing," she muttered. "It's just that—well, it's that old cow!" she said suddenly, nodding to the doors of the Great Hall, where Umbridge had just exited. "Don't tell me you didn't hear her! She's horrid!"

Remus shrugged. "That she is," he said, smiling unconcernedly at her. "There's nothing you can do about my lycanthropy, Tonks. Might as well go with it."

"'Nothing you can do about _your_ lycanthropy'? It's her who's got a problem!" Tonks hissed. "Are you still on about believing you're a monster? You know that's not true."

"Tonks—"

"Come on, you two lovebirds, shut up, will you?" cut in Sirius, grinning. "I just got cleared, for Merlin's sake. Don't ruin it with another of your lovers' spats!"

Tonks and Remus flushed, but to be truthful Tonks' heart gave a little leap at his words.

"Shut up," Remus muttered.

They went on eating, though Tonks mostly just pushed food around on her plate. Once in a while she chanced glances at Remus. _Men_, Tonks thought, frowning slightly. _Couldn't they take a hint?_ But then, Remus was hardly blind—he was just pushing himself away because he thought it was noble.

Tonks glanced again at the werewolf sitting across her. _One of these days, Remus Lupin_, Tonks promised. _One of these days. You'll see._

* * *

**AN:** _I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I was hoping to actually have a chapter up before September, but life decided to be irritating and go in the way. That, and I slacked.__  
_

_It's not rushed, is it? I sure hope not. About half of these was done on the way home from school with other students talking loudly on either side of me, so I'm not quite sure as to the quality of this chapter. And my Doc Manager's glitching! Bloody hell._

_On another note, is it just me, or is there a ridiculous amount of Fred and George in this chapter? Oh well. It's not like they're a bad thing to have in a story. And GAH this was hard to write, but it_ was _fun_._ Also, I hadn't quite anticipated how unbelievably LONG this would be. I was slightly tempted to cut it in half, but I remember I never really liked seeing chapters with 'part 1', 'part 2' etc on them. Unfortunately for me, GoF will probably be longer. And I still have a plothole for the future chapters that I have to solve..._

_So what do you guys think, anyway? And I need ideas, I'm running a bit out..._


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